


What was long lost

by Kurojouou



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cousin Incest, Drama, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-07 01:52:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4244997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurojouou/pseuds/Kurojouou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They both knew pain. They both knew suffering, loss. But even through it all, they had something that they knew they will never lose: each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone this is my first fanfic so please don't be harsh. I will try my best to do justice to the original characters. Jon and Arya are by far two of the most complicated characters in the books. Their bond is so damn special and all those times they mention each other in the books, I feel so fluttery inside. You can't blame me for being a hopeless romantic when it these two. So that's enough banter!  
> In the story, Jon is a Targaryen and it takes place about 5 years after ADWD. He is 22 and Arya is 16. Incest, if you call it, is present, so if you don't like, please don't read. Here's the first chapter! Cheers!!

Jon

Jon woke up sweating. The air was chilly but somehow his whole body felt like it was on fire. It was like this every time he had a dream, but these days they seemed so real he almost felt like he was inside them. He wrapped his cloak around his shoulders and looked out of the window. 

Snow was still falling. Today, he thought. His aunt was to come today to Winterfell and finally the North was going to have a Stark back as its Warden.

Jon paced his room slowly, remembering the dream he'd had. It had been the same for weeks. He saw Winterfell when it was ruled by Eddard Stark, saw Robb and Bran. Even Sansa sometimes. Even though he knew his real father was Rhaegar Targaryen, he was still Ned Stark's son. Jon remembered him and Robb practicing swordfighting. The Young Wolf was his best friend. Jon remembered Bran. How the boy wanted to be a knight and he remembered the fear he felt when he heard about Bran's fall from the tower. Where are you now, Bran?

 But most of his dreams were occupied by his little sister. Arya. No, she is not my sister. She is my cousin. But whatever she was to him, Jon missed her more than anyone else. No one knew where Arya was. The Starks had sent ravens all over Westeros after reclaiming the North, asking about the She-Wolf of the North. Although no one ever brought news of her being alive, Jon couldn't lose hope. He wouldn't. She is a direwolf of the North. She knows how to survive. And the dreams where he and Arya had fought together and talked and laughed made him more melancholy. He looked out into the snow covered ground below his room. He wondered if Arya still remembered him. If she still had the Needle he gave her. Jon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Come back home, sister. His eyes felt heavy and his body started to slightly shake. Come back home to Winterfell, to your siblings. Come back home to me.

\----------

 

"The Queen's here!" One of the workers shouted. Daenerys Targaryen came with a hundred of her men. She rode on a white horse; beside her were Ser Barristan Selmy, an Unsullied and a little woman who walked beside her Grace's horse. 

Jon stood there with Sansa to his right and Rickon to his left. Theon Greyjoy stood behind them. He had been accepted as a friend of the Starks after he had helped them drive the Boltons from the North. Rickon strode ahead to meet Daenerys at the gates and kneeled before her.

"Winterfell welcomes you, Your Grace," he said, in a manner not much different from his father.

Daenerys smiled slightly and said, "Lord Rickon."

She walked to where Jon and the others stood. They kneeled and got up again. Daenarys eyed Theon carefully, and smiled at Sansa and Jon. 

"Your Grace," Jon said. 

The Queen smiled warmly. "Nephew."

\--------

"I declare Lord Rickon the Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North." Rickon kneeled before the Queen and rose. The Great Hall erupted with shouts of "Stark! Stark!" and "Daenerys!" and "Winterfell!" 

The food was bought in. Jon sat with Ser Barristan on his left and Theon to his right. Sansa and Rickon and Daenarys also sat on the same table. The Queen was talking to the girl. Missandei was her name, Jon found out. A good friend to his aunt from what he'd heard.

He remembered when Daenerys had offered to legitimize him. She said she'd give him a Lordship and he could live in King's landing. 

"As a Targaryen should," were her words. But Jon had refused.

"This is my home. It has been my home for as long as I can remember. I cannot go. Not for anyone or anything."

"But you are a Targaryen."

"No, I am not. I was born a Snow and I'll remain a Snow. If I ever have to change my name, I'd rather change it to Stark," Daenerys stopped asking him after that and Jon was grateful for it.

Jon remembered Arya again. He remembered her fiery grey eyes. The last time he had dinner in this hall was when the King and the Queen had visited Winterfell. Everything changed after that. He remembered how that night he had decided to go to the Wall. I was just a boy then. A boy who thought he didn't belong. A stubborn boy. He remembered the night he had given Arya Needle. The shine in her eyes had told him how happy and sad she was. Just like him. They were just two stubborn children.

Jon stood up from his chair. Ser Barristan looked at him, "Are you well, My Lord?"

"Yes, Ser. I just need some air," Suddenly from nowhere, Ghost came and nuzzled his nose on Jon's legs.

"Ghost." Jon patted his head and walked out of the hall.

Snow had started to fall and the chill was growing. Everyone was inside so the yard was almost empty. Jon felt the cold wind on his face and closed his eyes. Father, don't let me disappoint you, he prayed. Help her come back.

"You miss her, don't you?" He heard Sansa's voice from behind him.

"Don't you?" He said softly.

"I do, but...," her voice faltered a little. "You were closer to her than anyone else."

Sansa laid a hand on his shoulder gently. "We all do, Jon," she said. After a pause she continued, "You should come inside. Its going to snow."

Jon looked up at the sky. "I like the cold," he said.

"I know." He heard her footsteps fade away.

Ghost was still at his side, but as it slowly started to snow, Ghost sat on the cold ground and put his head on his paws. Jon kneeled and ruffled his fur.

"Do you miss Nymeria?"

Ghost stared at him with red eyes and Jon knew what he wanted to say.

"As much as you miss Arya."


	2. Chapter 2

Arya

Arya walked through the crowded streets with her face hidden under a hood. She hadn't been Arya Stark in months. While she enjoyed being No One, she had that craving for being the direwolf again. She had wolf dreams almost everyday, and today she wanted to be wolf for real. 

Jaqen H'ghar had told her that she was to become Arya Stark for a day if she went back to becoming a Faceless Man by nightfall. Arya was good with hiding things, hiding who she really wanted to be, what she wanted to do, but when Jaqen told her this, she couldn't refuse. Somehow he had known her yearning to be Arya again. And Arya was surprised when he said this to her, because Jaqen never strayed from the rules of the House of Black and White and the God of Many Faces. But she couldn't lose this opportunity. When she said yes, Jaqen only replied, 

"A man wants a girl not to forget her vows to the God of Many Faces." 

"I won't."

Arya reached the docks and made her way to a familiar place. She searched for a pile of rocks and on finding it, started taking them out one by one. Her fingers touched something cold. Metal. Needle. 

She hadn't looked at Needle for months. The last time she used Needle was when she had fought with Jaqen. The blade felt so skinny in her hands, she remembered Jon's words, "Stick em with the pointy end."

She missed her brother. She hadn't heard of Jon in a long time and sometimes she wondered if he thought of her now, if he remembered her.

Arya took the blade in her hands and swung it a few times. The balance was always so perfect.

"Pretty girls shouldn't play with blades."

Arya turned and saw a man standing behind her amd looking at her smirking. She touched her head with her fingers. Her hood had fallen off; she never has had attention on anything else while practicing with Needle. 

"It is none of your concern what I should do or do not," she replied, her voice harsh.

His smirk widened as he started to take a step towards her but then a voice called from behind him. The man turned to look at the direction of the voice and walked away. 

Arya sighed and put Needle back. She knew the nature of men. The times when she became someone pretty, she saw how they eyed her. She had kissed men too. It never felt good, only sticky and dirty but she had done it. She had never laid with one though. Whoever she was, if any man tried to bed her, it wouldn't take long for Arya Stark to take his cock and cut in in half.

Arya started making her way back to the House of Black and White. The day was almost gone and she had to be back. By the next morning she would be someone else. She had put Needle back under the rocks. She couldn't take it with her. It belonged to Arya Stark and soon she would be No One. 

She turned at a small alley when she heard voices. The Common Tongue, Arya thought. She stood still and tried to listen to what they were saying. People from Westeros usually bought news and Arya hadn't heard about the West in some time.

"The Queen's just a bitch. The only thing making everyone call her Your Grace are those dragons. Without them, she would just be a fair cunt."

"I bet the Lords would revolt again if she looses her dragons," A somber voice said, "The only thing keeping them away is fire."

"The North won't though." Arya's ears pricked up. "I heard the Stark boy is to be the Warden of the North."

"Not the bastard?" The first voice said. 

"The bastard is not Stark. Only his mother..."

Arya heard a crash in the back of the alley and the men stopped talking. She waited hoping they would continue, but they didn't. 

"A girl looks different," Jaqen said as soon as she entered the House of Black and White.

"Nothing's different."

He caught her hand and turned her, pulling her towards himself.

"Tell me why you are sad," he asked her, his voice soft.

"I am not sad," she retorted. 

Jaqen tilted her chin up with his finger and Arya took a slight intake of breath. His face came came close and he whispered, "Who are you?" 

Arya moved away from him and went to the doors leading further inside the House of Black and White. But before she walked through the door, her voice came, a whisper, "Arya Stark of Winterfell."

\----------

Arya tossed and turned in her bed but sleep wouldn't come. They were talking about Jon, she thought. She let out a small shout and got up from her bed. The room was full of candles, but most were away from her sleeping place. Arya had nightmares, and sometimes waking up she would burn herself so she kept the fire at the distance. The room was small, with a little bed at the leftmost corner. Arya sat up and closed her eyes. All the memories came back, as they always do at times like this, times when she wondered what her life would have been if her father would have been alive. All he had to do was refuse that stupid, fat king. Arya wasn't one to dwell on things that could have been, but hearing about Jon from the men's lips hadn't let her heart rest for a moment. His mother, they said. No one knew who Jon Snow's mother was. Only her father. But he is dead now. I was there when he died.

And just like that, Arya stood up from her bed. She was still in her skirts so she changed into her breeches. Then she took a candle and made her way up to the Hall of the Gods. She saw the Seven, the Weirwood Face and the God of Many faces. She kneeled before Him and said a silent prayer. Valar Morghulis. 

Arya slowly opened the door through which she had entered five years ago. She closed the door behind her slowly when she was outside. She was surprised no one had caught her. She knew that Jaqen knew. Maybe he was standing just behind me while I knelt.

But she had walked out. And there was no going back. Only forward. Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the last chapter was short but I hope to elongate the rest as much as I can. The last one was an introduction chapter so I couldn't stretch it much. This one's a short one too. But I promise the next ones are going to be just the right length.  
> I have a few chapters already written so I'll update soon.


	3. Chapter 3

Jon

It had been three days since the Queen's arrival and she was to leave today. The Queensguard gathered in the Great Hall along with Danearys. 

"The dragon is outside, your Grace," Ser Barristan said to her.

Drogon had flown to Winterfell a night ago and had stayed since. Although dragons were not used to cold, somehow he stayed. When Rickon told Daenerys that the people were scared of the beast, she only replied that the dragon was probably missing his mother. 

Jon was sitting with Daenerys, Rickon and Sansa. 

"You could still come to Kings Landing, you know," Danearys said to Jon.

"I would try to visit, Your Grace."

Daenerys sighed and rose from her seat.

"I must go then." The others also stood and all of them made their way to the gates. 

"I had a good time, Lord Rickon," the Queen said, "I hope Winterfell will always remain loyal to the Crown."

"It will, Your Grace."

Suddenly, a loud roar was heard and all of the Queensguard instinctively surrounded the Queen. 

"Drogon!" Daenerys shouted and ran past them, Jon, Rickon, Sansa and the Queensguard behind her. 

The great beast was in the godswood. It was screaming and occasionally breathing fire. Daenerys was shouting for the guards to stay away. Jon looked on as one of the guards was burned alive and almost immediately every other one backed away. Just then, a hooded figure appeared from behind the weirwood tree.

"Who is that?" Sansa said, her voice already shaken from watching the dragon.

"Doesn't look like one of us," Ser Barristan said. He turned to the Queen and said again, "I'll see who it is, Your Grace." 

"No, wait," she said looking in front of her, "look." 

The hooded figure had came and stood in front of the dragon. Drogon stopped screaming and stayed still. Suddenly a rustle came from the woods and Ghost came out.

"Ghost?" Jon walked towards his direwolf but Rickon stopped him.

"I do not think that is a wise idea, Jon," he said putting a hand on Jon's arm. 

The direwolf slowly made his way towards the figure. It let out it's hand and Ghost licked it. Jon couldn't stand in his place any longer. He wanted to know who this was. 'Ghost never licks any person other than me,' he thought. 

He walked towards the three, ignoring Rickon and Sansa's voices telling him to come back. He approached the figure and it turned. Jon suddenly felt his chest tighten for no reason. He took a gulp.

He called to the wolf, "Ghost!"

The direwolf came to him and nuzzled himself on his leg. Suddenly Drogon, who had stood there all this time, flapped his wings and soared into the air. 

Jon heard the commotion of the guards but didn't turn. His eyes were fixed on the person before him, who had not even taken one step back when the dragon flew. Most people would've shouted or at least got afraid, but there was no trace of fear in the way she stood. 

Jon's voice broke the silence. 

"Who are you?" 

The person turned to him again and slowly took off it's hood. 'It's a girl!' Jon thought. 

The girl had dark hair, like his own and her skin was fair. She wasn't too tall, and came almost to his shoulders. But what made Jon's eyes widen were her own, grey eyes, also like his. His eyes went to the small sword at her hip which he hadn't noticed till now. 

'It cannot be!' he thought. 

"Jon." The girl said slowly, her voice breaking with the same amount of emotion he was feeling.

Jon crashed her to his chest hard. The girl responed with the same energy, clutching onto him tightly. He took her off her feet, swirled her around and buried his face into her neck, crying.

"Arya, Arya, Arya," he murmured into her neck. Arya hugged him tighter, if possible and cried loudly. 

"The Gods have listened Arya," he said, "You don't know how much I've prayed!"

"Oh, Jon!"

They stayed in each other's arms, crying and murmuring. 

They finally broke apart and Jon looked at his sister properly. Her cheeks were red and eyes puffed. 

She was still skinny and little and so much like him in so many ways. Jon thanked the Gods again and again. His heart felt so full of happiness he thought it would burst.

Jon heard Sansa's voice and turned to see Rickon, Sansa coming towards them with strange looks on their faces. Arya's hand tightened just a little on his, and he gave her a smile.

Turning to to the others he said, 

"She is back."

While Rickon was looking puzzled at them, Sansa suddenly registered who she was looking at, and took her little sister in her arms.

"Oh Arya, Arya," she cried.

"Arya?" Rickon's voice was one of surprise and astonishment.

Arya looked at both of them and replied smiling, "Sansa, Rickon. I missed you."

"And we missed you," Rickon said hugging her. Though four years younger, he was almost of the same height as hers, only with more build.

After talking to both of her siblings she turned to Jon, 

"Where's Bran?" she asked.

Jon's face fell. "We don't know, Arya. He's still missing."

Arya didn't say anything, just looked at the three of them for a while. Sansa suddenly said, 

"I'll go back, to make preparations. There must be a feast tonight," she smiled, "Our wolf is back."

And she walked away. Rickon and Jon and Arya stood there in silence, when Rickon said,

"I must go back as well. The Queen has left and then there's the body to be taken care of." Turning to Arya he said, "It's good to have you back, sister."

"You've grown," she observed.

" I had to," he said, his eyes a bit melancholy. 

As he left too, only Jon and Arya remained in the Godswood. Ghost had ran off as soon as Sansa and Rickon had come. They stood in comfortable silence for a while, just loving the feeling of being near each other after so many years. Arya went and sat below the Weirwood tree, Jon slowly following and then taking his place beside her. His hand instinctively went to her hair and ruffled it, and Arya smiled and leaned onto him. He put his arm around her and pulled her close. 

"What happened to Bran?" Arya asked softly. 

"I don't know. No one does. He never came back."

"I thought he died, and Rickon. I had heard about them being dead. But on my way here, they told me Rickon was the lord here now. I thought Bran survived too," she said.

"They escaped separately," Jon explained, "Rickon went with a woman and Bran and the Reed children went the other way. No one's heard of them since," he finished.

"No one," she whispered.

Jon felt her shift. 

"I'm glad you are back, Arya. And I see you still have Needle," he pointed to the sword still at her hip. Arya removed it from it's scabbard and took in her hands.

"It reminded me of home," she said, "of you. Though I had to put it away for some time, I couldn't lose it."

Jon sensed her fragile frame grow stiff when she said that. To make things a bit less tense, he said,

"I got myself a sword too, you know," he said, bringing out Longclaw from it's scabbard.

Arya looked at the sword and her eyes shone when Jon placed it in her hands.

"Its big," she said, her hands tracing the outline of the blade, "doesn't mean it's better than my Needle though." 

She smirked at him and Jon grinned back, 

"Why don't we see? Want a match?" 

Arya fumed with excitement and was on her feet in an instant.

"You'll lose," she said.

"We'll see." 

Both of them took their positions and charged at each other. While Jon was more at an advantage because of his height and his sword, Arya fluently moved and dodged all of his attacks. Not a scratch was inflicted on any one though. Jon tried to make her tire out, but he saw that the way she was fighting, it was not happening any time soon. It was an altogether different sort of sword fighting than he had seen. Arya moved with grace and agility. Jon was slowly getting tired. Suddenly his sword met skin and scratched Arya's shoulder, at which she winced slightly. Jon feared about hurting her and let down his guard, at which Arya attacked him and fell on top of him, pushing both of them to the ground. 

"Yield?" she asked, panting.

Jon tried to get up but she had straddled him with her legs.

"That was not fair, little sister," he said, humor in his voice.

"You got distracted," she said, "I hardly had anything to do with it."

"Well, it was you who distracted me, doesn't that make you the culprit?" he said.

She laughed and rolled her eyes, and Jon took this moment to swap their positions. He pinned her hands down with one of his own, and with the other took Needle from her hand. He smirked at the angry expression on Arya's face, making her even more furious.

"Who's not being fair now?" she barked out.

He chuckled and her eyes softened a bit. Suddenly she felt cold metal at her throat.

"Yield, Arya," he said smiling.

"No!" 

The blade pressed deeper into her throat but didn't cut the skin. Arya took a deep breath and closed her eyes, tilted her head up and ran her tongue on her lower lip. Suddenly the humor vanished from Jon's eyes and he stared at Arya. Her head tilted back, eyes closed. His hand on the sword tightened as well as on her wrists. 

Suddenly a voice brought Jon back to reality and he got up from the ground, giving Arya a hand up. A boy was shouting their names and requesting them to come to the halls. 

Jon sheathed Longclaw as Arya sheathed Needle. He looked at her and smiled again.

"I won," he said.

"No, you cheated." 

"A draw then," he said grinning at her, at which Arya rolled her eyes again. He ruffled her hair again and both of them followed the boy toward the Great Hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I aged up Rickon a bit. He is four years younger than Arya, whereas, in the books it was six years probably.


	4. Chapter 4

Arya

The feast went on and on. One by one, people came and kissed her hand and called her Lady. Arya's brow raised at this but she didn't say anything. At her left, she felt Jon chuckle lightly. She stomped her foot on his and he winced.

"What was that for?" He asked, rubbing his foot with his hand.

"Nothing, stupid," she said and he grinned at her again.

Sansa was seated to her right and Rickon to hers. Arya saw Theon Greyjoy approach their table. She got alert and put her hand on her sword.

"No," said Jon, putting his hand over hers and stopping her.

Arya looked surprised at Jon and shook her head,

"He betrayed Robb, Jon. He betrayed Winterfell. Why are you all fraternizing with him?" Her voice was low but seething with anger.

"He's changed, Arya," Jon said calmly, "he's not bad anymore. He helped us get all of this back."

Arya let out a low growl and dropped her hand from her sword.

"You better tell me everything," she said, calming just a bit.

"I will." 

After three or four hours, the people finally started going away. Arya was too tired by the time all of them retired to their chambers. Sansa and she started walking to hers. 

"I have tried my best but I am afraid they could not restore your room to what it was exactly, although it is much the same."

"My room?" Arya asked surprised.

"Yes, the one you stayed in before...," Sansa's voice faded away.

Arya put her hand on her sister's and squeezed it.

"Thank you for everything, Sansa," she said, "you have done too much."

"I am happy you are finally home again."

They reached the door to her room and Arya pushed it. The room surely was much similar to the one she had occupied back when she was younger.

"Do you like it?" Sansa asked hopefully.

Arya nodded. They both embraced each other and bade a good night. Arya entered the room and closed the door behind her. There were clothes on the bed, lots of dresses. Arya hunched up her nose and threw the dresses on a chair. 'Sansa,' she sighed. She looked at her own clothes, which were a ragged skirt and tunic. 'I am going to have to do a lot of work,' she thought. She searched for something loose to wear and found a shift in the middle of the heap of clothes. She changed quickly and got into the bed, her eyes closing on their own accord. 

"Who are you?"

"No one."

"No, you are not. You're Arya Stark. Of Winterfell."

"I tried to be. I can't. Everything's changed." 

"You left on your own free will."

"I was stupid. I shouldn't have."

"No, you shouldn't have."

The girl ran faster and faster. It was snowing and the cold hit her face, but she kept running. Finally she came across it. The Weirwood tree. It was the same except the face was different. It seemed much younger, much... familiar. Suddenly the girl heard a voice,

"Arya." It was a whisper but somehow she had heard it very clearly. The girl looked at the Weirwood face and suddenly it moved. Not very much, only that she noticed. 

"Arya," it said again.

"I am not Arya. I used to be her, I am not anymore," the girl murmured, pain evident in her voice.

"You think you have... sinned... but all men sin... and though there... are many... love is not... one of them," the voice said slowly, "what do... you... feel in your... heart... Arya?"

"I love him. I know he is mine, but..." her voice cracked, "can I give him all of me? Even the worst parts?"

"He already... has... every part... of... you."

Arya woke up with a start. Her head felt like it had been smashed. She held it between her hands and groaned. She tossed and turned in the bed, but after the strange dream, sleep didn't seem so eager to come. She got up and draped a cloak around her, and opened her door slowly and walked down to the outside. The air was cold. It looked like it was going to snow soon. Arya walked to the Godswood. The place was silent, other than the sounds of her own breathing and the occassional rustling of leaves. She went to the Weirwood tree and stared at it. The Starks had always worshipped the Old Gods. Her father had always spent solitary time in the Godswood, either working with Ice or just sitting near the lake. 

"Can't sleep?" A voice said from behind her. Arya started and turned quickly, ready to fight if it was an enemy. But she saw it was far from it.

"No. I had a dream and couldn't fall asleep again," she said.

"Well, at least I got company now," Jon said smiling.

"And why are you awake?" She asked walking towards him.

"Ghost started growling and I had to open the doors to let him out,"

"He sleeps in your room?" 

"Sometimes, yes," he said. They were close now. "Aren't you cold?" He said looking at the loose shift she was wearing. 

"No, I am a direwolf, remember?" She smirked.

He laughed lightly. 

"Jon?"

"Hmm?'

"Who is your mother?" Arya had almost forgotten the reason she had returned. The mention of Jon and his mother had brought her back, and she needed to know if he had found out who his mother was after all these years.

Jon hesistated a little, but said,

"Lyanna Stark."

Arya let out a gasp. Her aunt was his mother? But how?

"Our father...," she said shockingly, "did he..."

"No, no, no! Gods, Arya. No!" Jon shook his head at her, "it's not like that. Eddard Stark was not my father."

"Then who?" Her voice was rising.

"Rhaeger Targaryen," Jon said. Arya jaw dropped. Jon a Targaryen? Bloody hells! Her hand went to her mouth.

"Not what you were expecting, right?" He said, trying to smile.

"But how, Jon?" She asked rather loudly.

Jon sighed and told her everything. About the tourney, about how Rhaegar took Lyanna, how they fell in love and she bore him a son. Arya stayed still and listened. He told her about Daenerys, about his half-brother Aegon, about how he'd come to know about them during the war, and how he rode Rhaegal. 

"My father was so good at lying, wasn't he?" Arya said, "And all these years. If only we had known. If mother had known, she never would have treated you the way she did."

Jon smiled sadly. 'I probably shouldn't have said that.' Arya thought.

"But what is gone is gone," she said again, "it's never good to linger too much in the past."

Jon nodded. There was silence for a few minutes, then Jon asked her,

"Where were you, Arya?"

The question had finally surfaced. Arya had thought about what she'd say when they asked her this. She could lie, she was good at it. 'Can I lie to him, though?' She thought. 

"I cannot tell you, Jon," she said softly.

"Arya...," he took her hand made circles on the back of it with his thumb, "you know I'd never judge you."

No, he won't. But could she tell him all of it? All that she'd done? About the people she'd been, the ones she'd killed. Would Jon still hold her hand like that if he knew how many throats it slit and how many people's blood were on it?

Jon waited patiently while Arya gathered her thoughts.

"I cannot tell you now. I promise I will, just not today," she said.

Jon took both of her hands and kissed them, making Arya shiver involuntarily. 

"Whenever you're ready," he said, "I'll be here to listen."

The snow started falling and both of them made their way inside the castle. 

Jon's room was further away than Arya's so when they reached hers, he opened the door for her to get in. 

"Thank you for telling me, Jon," she said.

He smiled and brought his hand to her cheek and caressed it slowly. Arya leaned a little into his touch. He stared at her and slowly leaned in, bringing his lips close to her face. He kissed her right cheek, and smiled at her again and turned to go. As she closed the door behind her, Arya let out the breath she didn't realise she was holding. Her heart beat loudly and quickly. Arya wrapped her arms around herself and fell on the bed, her heartbeat returning to normal only when she started to fall asleep.

When she woke up, it was still snowing outside. Staying in Braavos she had always woke up to bright sunshine, and the cold made her feel grateful she was home. She got up and dressed herself, wearing a dress which was not so ladylike like the others. She decided to tell Sansa to give her some breeches. She couldn't wear these dresses forever. Just as she finished dressing, a knock sounded on her door. 

"Arya?" Sansa's voice came.

"Come in," she replied.

Sansa entered, and beamed at Arya.

"Did you sleep well?" 

"Yes," Arya remembered what happened the night before, "I did."

"Good," Sansa grinned.

"Is everyone up already?" 

"Yes. Rickon's practising in the grounds with Theon and Jon. They were planning to go riding."

"Oh!" Arya exclaimed, "I must go with them!"

Sansa's smile faltered.

"You'll go riding? With the men?"

"What else?" Arya replied enthusiastically, "though I hope I don't end up murdering Theon."

"Do you think that is appropriate, Arya?" Sansa said worriedly, "ladies aren't supposed to..."

Arya cut her off.

"Sansa, please...," Arya said, gently holding her sister's hands, "I am hardly a lady, you know that."

Sansa sighed. 

"Alright," she smiled, "As you like, wolf."

She turned to go but Arya stopped her.

"Sansa, wait!"

"Yes?" She asked.

"Do you have any breeches? I can't wear this," she said pointing to her dress. 

Sansa shook her head, 

"I'll tell the maid."

Arya grinned at her sister. After the maid brought the clothes, she wore them and picked up Needle and ran down to the grounds.

Steel clashed steel as Rickon and Theon plunged at each other. Arya saw Jon standing at the side and walked up to him. He eyed her carefully and grinned,

"Sansa let you wear that?"

"Yes, she did," Arya said rolling her eyes, "she said you all are going hunting. I'm coming too."

Jon looked surprised but shook his head.

"No."

"No?"

"No."

Arya groaned. 

"Yes, I'll go and you'll take me," she said defaintly, "Rickon isn'r going to deny me and I'll cut Theon's throat if he tries to argue with me about anything at all."

"Arya, it's dangerous," Jon said, "didn't you know how Robert Baratheon died trying to hunt a boar?"

"Robert Baratheon was fat and stupid. I know how to hunt, Jon," she said.

"Oh really? And how many things have you killed?" He said smirking.

Arya's face changed to one without expression. She replied with a hard voice,

"More than I should."

Jon's smile vanished at her words and he looked at her face,

"Arya?"

She opened her mouth to say something when a man shouted,

"Milords!"

Theon and Rickon stopped practising and Jon and Arya turned to look at the man running towards them.

"Milords!"

Jon went to the man and asked him what was the matter.

"There is someone near the woods, Milord. I saw him...," he panted, "One minute he was someone, the next he looked like another man. Some kind of spell, Milord.

'No!' Arya ran where the man was pointing. 

"Arya!" Jon's voice called behind her, but she kept running. A Faceless Man, it is A Faceless Man.

She kept running. Jon, Theon and Rickon had reached her and all of them stopped as they saw a man emerge from behind a tree.

Arya's throat felt dry. She took a step backwards and gripped Needle tightly. 'No!' She said in her head over and over again, 'No! No! No!'

The man was dressed in a torn tunic amd breeches. His left eye looked bruised and blood oozed out of his arm. He started walking towards them and Jon and Theon unsheathed their swords. 

"No!" Arya shouted and came before them. She blocked their way. 

"Arya, get out of the way!" Jon shouted at her.

"No, Jon, you won't hurt him," she said.

"You know this man?" Theon asked.

"Yes," she said quickly. She looked at the man standing infront of them, his red and white hair almost fully covered with blood, "I know him. He is my friend."

"Friend?" Jon asked.

"Yes. His name is Jaqen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to review please. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Jon

Jon looked at the man infront of him then back at Arya. By the look on her face, he could tell she was afraid. 

"Trust me, Jon. Please put down your sword," Arya pleaded.

Jon hesitated but put Longclaw back in its scabbard. He heard Theon sheath his too and looked at the bleeding man who stood still looking at Arya. She walked towards the man and whispered something to him. The next thing he saw, the man dropped to his knees on the ground. Arya kneeled and slowly caressed his face with her palm. She turned to Jon and Theon and asked,

"Will you help me take him to the castle?"

"We don't know who he is, Arya. It may not be wise," Jon said with a hard voice.

"Don't you trust me?" 

Jon felt Theon lay a hand on his shoulder. He walked past Jon and kneeling beside Arya, tried to get the man up on his feet.

"Come on, Snow. He's injured. He needs a Maester," Theon said.

Jon sighed and went to help Theon. They both put their shoulders under his arms and carried him to the castle. Arya was walking behind them silently.

Sansa came running when she looked at the bleeding man. She gasped and asked,

"Who is this?"

"Lady Arya's friend," Jon spit rather harshly.

Sansa looked at Arya then at Jon and again at her sister. 

"Sansa," Theon interrupted them, "can you call for Maester Correl? The man's bleeding," 

Sansa nodded and ran inside. Theon and Jon took the man to a room and laid him on the bed. 

Jon saw Arya enter the room. Theon was walking out but she stopped him.

"Wait, Theon," 

He turned and looked at her.

"Thank you," she said. 

Theon smiled at her and went away leaving Jon along with his sister and the stranger. He turned to leave the room too, but Arya clutched his hand.

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"Somewhere," he said pulling his arm away from her grasp, "don't you have to attend to your friend?" 

"Stop it, Jon."

"I should go. I better not disturb you two."

Jon heard Arya say something but he didn't listen. He was already out of the room and after a while, out of the castle. He knew who the man was. What the man was. He had heard about Faceless Men. How one could kill men like that, he didn't understand. He had encountered one back during the war. Sorcery, some called it. But according to what the man had said, they were only devotees. Of some God whose name Jon couldn't remember.

Somehow, watching Arya with the man had made him seethe with anger. It was probably because he was shocked to see her get so close with such a dangerous man. But somehow, whenever he closed his eyes, images flashed in his mind of Arya touching the man's cheek, whispering something to him, and he felt his blood boil. Jon let out a shout and pulled Longclaw out. He went to the grounds and saw a few soldiers fighting.

"You!" He shouted at a boy of fifteen or so.

The boy stopped and looked at him,

"Yes, Milord?"

"Fight with me," Jon said.

The boy's eyes widened as his hands shook.

"B-b-but... milord, I," he stammered.

"I said fight!" Jon roared.

The sword fell from the boy's hand in fear. He trembled and picked it up, and walked towards Jon.

"Wait!" A voice said from behind him.

Jon turned and saw Arya walking towards them.

"Go," she said to the boy. The boy bowed and ran away.

Jon looked at her and sheathed his sword, walking away from there.

"Wait, Jon!" She shouted. He didn't and she pulled his arm strongly, "I bloody said, wait!"

Jon turned and growled at her. He was seething with anger but Arya didn't back off.

"What is wrong with you!" She shouted again.

"What is wrong with me! You're the one who's keeping secrets, Arya!" He shouted back.

"What are you talking about?"

"How do you know that man, Arya?" He asked, his voice getting louder.

Arya sighed and replied slowly, 

"I told you. He is my friend."

"Really? And since when are Faceless Men befriending little girls?" He shouted.

Arya shrank back. Her eyes widened and her voice caught in her throat,

"You-you... how do you...," she managed to let out.

"I do know things, contrary to what you think. I knew the man had seen a Faceless Man when he said he changed his face," he said, "but how did you know, Arya?"

"I-I-I...," she stammered.

"You can keep your secrets, Arya, I won't ask for them. But please, right now, I need to be alone," he turned away from her.

"Jon...,"

"All I want is for you to trust me. It didn't used to be that hard remember?" 

"Jon, please...," he heard her sob behind him. His hand twitched. He wanted so badly to hold her tight and kiss her tears away. But he needed to be alone. And with all the courage he possessed, Jon Snow walked away.

He went to the Godswood and sat near the lake. His head seemed ready to burst. 

Maybe he'd overreacted. Maybe he shouldn't have shouted at Arya like that, but ever since her return, even though they had been nearly inseparable, there existed a wall between them. He saw a fear in Arya's eyes everytime she was with him. But he hadn't seen it today, when she looked at the man, Jaqen, she called him, there was no fear. And Jon didn't want that. He didn't like watching Arya share something with someone that she wouldn't share with him. He felt selfish, he felt sick, but somehow, he didn't feel guilty for it. 

All his life he'd wanted to belong. And in all of his life, they were only a few people who thought he did. Ygritte, Ned, Robb, Mormont... Arya. 'No, I cannot do this,' he thought and got up, 'I am sorry, Arya.' 

He walked back to the castle only to watch Rickon standing with a guard. A raven.

"Jon," he greeted.

"Who is it from?" He asked.

"The Queen." Rickon opened the paper, and Jon saw his eyes slowly widen in shock. He bade the guard away and asked Jon to follow him inside.

They both went to the solar. 

"What does she say?" Jon asked.

"It is about your half-brother," Rickon said.

"Aegon? What about him?" 

"Well," Rickon said, hesitatingly, "he wants to marry my sister."

"Sansa? But he barely knows her." 

"No, not Sansa," Rickon said sitting down on a chair, "Arya."

Jon stared at Rickon in shock. Arya? Married? And that too, to his brother?

"That is not possible!" He exclaimed, "she will never agree!" 

Rickon stayed silent, opening the message again and reading it.

"And the same thing goes for her as for Sansa. She barely knows him!" He said, "Not barely. She doesn't know him at all!"

"That is where we are probably wrong, Jon." Rickon handed him the letter. He opened it and read it quickly.

Lord Rickon,

You mustn't be surprised at receiving this. When I was at Winterfell, I learned that your sister, Lady Arya Stark, has returned to you. 

I recalled my journey to my nephew as soon as I reached King's Landing. But what surprised me was that, Aegon seems already acquainted with your sister. He tells me he knows her from during the war. 

My nephew, Aegon Targaryen, asks for your sister's hand in marriage. And I have agreed to give them my blessing if Arya too agrees to the match. 

For the purpose of courting her, Aegon will go to Winterfell two days from now, as he is quite impatient to meet his Northern Beauty.

Daenerys Targaryen.

Queen of Westeros.

Jon stared at the paper in his hands. 'More secrets,' he thought. 

"I do not doubt that Arya will probably try to kill us all if we tell her about this, but the prince claims to know her, and enough to claim to marry her. We could be wrong." Rickon said.

"Yes..." Jon mumbled.

"Jon?" 

He looked at Rickon.

"Will you tell her? She will take it well from you.," Rickon said.

"I-I'll try."

Rickon nodded and put a hand on his shoulder and walked out of the room. 

Jon stormed to Arya's room. It was enough. He needed answers. The unconscious man, the prince. He needed to know about everything. And from her. He couldn't keep his promise, he couldn't wait for her to be ready as he had said. He would ask her today. 

She was standing near the window, looking out. She turned and looked at Jon before turning away again. 

Jon locked the door behind him and entered the room. It was like the room she had when she was little. He had given her Needle right here. That girl seemed so far away now, almost a stranger.

"Arya." Jon's voice was far from gentle.

"You said you wanted to be alone," she said without looking at him.

"Seven hells, Arya, stop this!" He shouted as he stormed to her side and turned her to look at him. He held her wrists in his hands, stopping her movement.

"Jon!" She glared angrily.

"What has happened to you! After all these years you finally came back home and I thought everything will be okay now." 

"It is never going to be okay, Jon! Never!" She shouted.

"It could be! It would be if you just tell me what is going on. There is a bloody assassin lying out there who you claim to be your friend! And I find out my half-brother wants to fucking marry you!"

"What are you talking about?" She shouted in surprise.

"Do you know Aegon?" He asked.

"Yes," she said after a while. "I met him during the war. I didn't know he was a Targaryen, not until...," her voice stopped. 

"Did you fuck him?" Jon asked, his voice dangerously low.

Arya's eyes widened but she stood still.

"Tell me, Arya!" He shouted when she didn't reply. He grasped the bottom of her chin with his fingers and tilted her head up. Suddenly her mouth was on his. He groaned and pushed her to the wall, kissing her passionately. Arya took his hair in her hand and fisted it, resulting in a low groan from Jon's throat.

Suddenly his eyes snapped open and he pulled himself from her in shock. His eyes widened as he realised what they had done. No! 

"Arya..." he whispered.

She looked at him with her grey eyes and he felt himself tear apart. She rested her hand on his cheek carressing it and he closed his eyes inhaling sharply. He grasped her hand and pulled it away from his face.

"No, Arya," he warned.

"Jon...,"

She stepped closer to him and he felt his mouth go dry. 

"No!" He shouted and stepped backwards. "This is wrong."

Arya stayed there in silence. 

"I must go...," he said and went to the door. He let out a long sigh and walked out of her room.

Jon went straight to his own chambers. He swallowed the lump in his throat. 'What have I done?' He asked himself over and over again. She was his sister, she was Arya. And he had destroyed their relation, the innocent bond they shared. His head felt heavy and he laid on the bed. But as he closed his eyes, images of Arya kissing him and pulling his hair filled his head. 'She's my fucking sister!' He shouted inside his head. 

He tried to remember what led to it, and suddenly he remembered what he had asked her. Jon couldn't believe he had used those words infront of Arya. Somehow, he had been so angry at the thought of Aegon touching her that he didn't realise what was right or wrong. 

Jon had never been violent, and this side of him surprised even himself. Not in a good way, though. He had almost hurt Arya. But at that time, there was nothing but rage inside him, and he felt like a demon had possessed him. 

Jon started to feel sleepy hours later. The maid brought food in, but he bade her away. He was far from hungry. Food was the last thing he needed right now.

He had done so much wrong and he had no idea how to right them.

"Arya...," he mumbled and sleep engulfed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. Don't forget to drop a comment down there please. ♡♡   
> They are deeply appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

Arya

Arya didn't know why she had it. One moment she had felt angry at him and the next she looked at him, and she felt like they were slipping away from each other. She couldn't lose Jon. Jon was her home, Jon was the only person with whom she felt like she belonged and when she looked at those familiar eyes and found anger, sadness, pain and confusion all directed at her, her head had stopped working and her instincts took over. She had kissed him. 

She knew her past would come between them. But how could she tell him all that had happened? All those people she killed. As she laid on her bed, she wondered if not telling Jon the truth was going to be harder than telling him.

She rolled from one side of the bed to the other. There were so many things to be taken care of. Jon, Jaqen. And Aegon, that bloody prince.

Arya sighed. Jon said that Aegon wanted to marry her, and she knew he wouldn't lie about this. But what he said after... no. Arya didn't lay with Aegon. She had only met him once and hadn't even thought of him after that... well, maybe once or twice. 

  
*******

The girl was taking a big risk, she knew. But she couldn't lose this chance. 

Jaime Lannister hadn't been on the list she had made years ago, but now he was. He had killed someone close to her, and she had learned of something he had done all those years ago. She would make him pay. By giving him the gift.

She walked into the cells silently. It was the middle of the night and the guards were asleep. One moved when she walked past him and she stilled, but his breathing turned even again and he started snoring softly. She reached the cell at the farthest corner. She glanced through the door and saw the Kingslayer lying on the floor. He was not fully asleep, she could tell, as his breath came unevenly.

She saw the key in the hands of the guard. But as she tried to take it, his eyes shot open and he quickly unsheathed his sword and opened his mouth to shout. But Arya put her hand over his mouth and pressed. The guard stumbed backwards as she jumped on him. 

"I will give you anything you want, just give me the key," she whispered in his ear. The guard still struggled and tried to shrug her off, the sword in his hand falling on the floor with a loud sound.

Arya's eyes widened.

"Money, I'll give you money. As much as you want," she said frantically, "the others are coming, tell them it's all right, and make them go away."

She got off him in one swift move and picked up the sword from the floor, pressing it to his neck.

"Now!"

The guard did as she said. When the footsteps faded, Arya took out a dagger from her breeches and plunged it slowly into the guard's upper thigh. He fell on the ground and tried to open his mouth but couldn't move.

"Don't worry, you won't die. Just paralysed," she said and took the keys from him.

She quietly opened the door and stepped inside. She took Needle out and placed it on the Kingslayer's throat. 

Jaime Lannister opened his eyes slowly and stared at her. She was surprised he didn't scream or shout. His hands and feet were tied in chains. 

"Why?" He asked, almost calmly.

"You killed Gendry Waters," she said, "he was my friend."

"People die in war all the time, girl. I had to kill your friend or he would've killed me."

"You're gonna die now anyway," she said, pressing the blade closer. 

"It doesn't matter really, they are going to execute me anyway. Tomorrow. The day after," he said.

"Die, Kingslayer!" She plunged the blade through his neck. Blood gushed out and he fell to the ground writhing. 

"This is for Gendry and for Bran." She said and Jaime's eyes went wide. He coughed out blood till the floor was red and life had left his eyes.

"Valar morghulis." Arya whispered.

She was making her way back when she heard whispers above her and stopped. 

"I'll go from here," a voice said.

"But, your Highness..."

She heard the footsteps coming towards her and took her dagger out. She waited a while then the sounds ceased. She walked forward and suddenly someone pinned her against the walls, making her dagger slide away from her hand and fall on the floor.

She saw the man leaning closer to her as he whispered,

"What's a girl doing in the cells? You shouldn't be here."

"Let me go! " she shouted as she struggled against him. Her hands went to her hip to take Needle but he stopped them midway.

"Fiesty little thing you are!" He said, "now tell me, who are you and what are you doing here?" 

"I am no one! Let me go, you ass!" 

He laughed and he pinned her more tightly to the wall. Their positions made Arya's face come more in the light and suddenly his smile faded.

"You look so much like someone I know."

Arya looked at him strangely.

"Your eyes are the same," he went on, "and your hair. You must know him, his name is Jo-" 

Arya swiftly wrung herself free from his grasp and attempted to run, but he caught her again, this time her back to his chest. 

"You just don't stay in place, do you," he whispered close to her ear and she shivered. She could feel his breath on her neck. He slowly traced a line on her throat with his finger.

"Who are you?" He asked again.

"Arya Stark."

She felt him still and slide away from her lightly and she took the chance and punched him in the stomach. Before he could stop her, she was out of his reach and running up towards the castle. Her heart kept throbbing in her chest. She had just killed the last man on her list but the encounter after that had left it's own imprint on her mind.  


*******

Arya walked to the room Jaqen was in. His eyes were closed and he slept peacefully. She went to his side and sat on the edge of the bed. She started stroking his hair, running her fingers softly through them.

"Lady Arya?" 

The Maester came in and Arya stood up. 

"Is he healed?" She asked.

"Not fully. I've given him the milk of the poppy. He will be conscious soon. Would you disagree if I give him more of it? His wounds may hurt if he wakes up now. If he sleeps for another day or so, they will heal. Not completely, but still," he said.

"Whatever you feel proper, Maester Correl. Just make him heal." 

"I'll try my very best, My Lady."

Arya nodded and left the room. 'I need to see Jon,' she thought. She knew it would be awkward, but she had to speak with him. After the events of the day before and Jon's reaction, she knew he was ashamed. She wanted to tell him he doesn't have to be. She kissed him. Not the other way around. Thinking about it made her stomach flutter in a strange way. Being so close to Jon, feeling his lips on hers, it was some kind of consolation. Immoral as it was, Arya felt nervous when they kissed. The guilt only came after that look on Jon's face. That look that told her he was afraid and ashamed. Arya felt like her heart would break if Jon kept looking at her like that, pulling away from her as if she was some kind of mirage he wasn't willing to believe in.

But she was interrupted by Sansa who one moment was in front of her, and the next pulling her off to her chambers. 

She closed the door behind them.

"Sansa, what-" 

"The Prince wants to marry you! Arya! Why didn't you tell me he loves you!" Sansa exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"Slow down, Sansa," Arya sighed, "he does not love me. We only met once." 

"But he wants to marry you!" She repeated.

"Doesn't mean he'll get what he wants," Arya grumbled.

"You'll reject him?" 

"Yes!"

"But Arya," Sansa spoke in astonishment, "he is the Prince! Aegon Targaryen! The Queen's nephew! You cannot reject him." 

"Let's see if someone can stop me," Arya challenged.

"But... I thought you like him. He must be sure of your affections if he has decided to come all this way."

"I do not love him, Sansa," Arya said, "falling in love is something I am not capable of."

Sansa looked at her and took her hand. 

"If you do not want to marry, no one will force you. I have experienced marriages without love, political marriages. You will not marry for anything other than love, Arya."

"Who says I will marry at all?" She asked.

"You will have to, someday." Sansa said smiling.

"I told you, Sansa. I am not capable of falling in love, or marriage, or children or anything of that kind. The only love I feel is for my family, and that too occupies just a tiny piece of my heart. The other parts are full of hate," she whispered, "and I do not think there is such a man on Westeros who can erase all of that."

"I hope there is, Arya. And I hope you'll find him. Love comes easier than hate, you just have to let it."

Arya smiled a little and Sansa kissed her cheek.

"I only wonder," she smiled, "whose side Jon would be on. Yours or his brother's."

Arya's smile vanished and her earlier tension resurfaced. Jon.

"I don't know...," her voice became soft.

"Arya? What is it?" Sansa asked softly.

"Nothing, Jon and I just had a fight."

"It's alright. I do not think the two of you can be separated for long. Fate seems to pull you both to each other. You know, I'd never seen him as much happy as he was when you came back. It was as if you brought his laugh back with you."

Arya's eyes felt hot. 'No, no, no, I cannot cry.'

"I should go, Sansa, I have something to do."

Sansa smiled and nodded,

"And I should too. Even if he's not going to be my brother-in-law, Aegon is still coming."

Arya searched for Jon everywhere, but couldn't find him. She asked the men and the servants, but everyone said they hadn't seen him that day. After an hour, she had looked almost everyone he could have been, until there was only one place left.

As soon as she entered the crypts, she knew she was right. She saw a man holding a candle, standing near her aunt's tomb. She walked to him with light steps, not wanting to disturb him. When he was within arm's reach, she slowly put her hand forward until it met his and he stilled. She intertwined their fingers and stared at him. He was facing way from her but somehow she thought he knew it was her. She put her other hand on his back and leaned onto him.

"Jon," she whispered softly, not wanting to disrupt the sacred silence.

"Will you ever forgive me, Arya?" He asked, his voice mumbled by evident pain.

"If it is about forgiveness, it is I who should ask it of you."

He turned around without letting go of her hand. He put the candle down and brought his hand to cup her face. He inhaled deeply.

"You cannot blame yourself," Arya whispered.

"But it is wrong. So, so wrong." Jon leaned and put his forehead against hers.

Arya's hand moved of their own accord and touched the scar on his cheek. Her body seemed to listen to its own wishes these days.

"Where did you get this?" She asked.

Jon closed his eyes,

"A bird." 

Arya chuckled.

"Have birds started to get the better of you now, Lord Snow?" 

Jon smiled but before he could say anything, Arya pulled herself up on her toes and kissed his scar lightly, lingering on the spot. 'No, not again!' her mind cursed. But she didn't pull back. She didn't know what was wrong with her and why she craved being close to Jon so much. She heard Jon take a deep breath.

"Arya...," Jon's warned. 

She clutched his shirt with her hand. Jon grabbed her waist and pulled her away from him. 

"What are you doing...," his voice came low. 

She didn't reply, just stared. Arya didn't know what was happening. Her heart seemed to flutter, her body felt hot and she couldn't tear her eyes away from Jon. She knew what she was thinking and feeling was wrong. Her mind went to the kiss they shared and she was so ashamed at the fact that she wanted to try it again. 

Jon was staring at her as well. In the dim light, Arya saw that his pupils had diluted and turned black.

"I want to touch you, I don't know why," she whispered.

Jon took her hand and put it on his cheek. 

"Closer...," her voice was low and hoarse.

Jon leaned in closer and Arya's breathing quickened. She closed her eyes and stood still. Jon slowly breathed on her neck and she tilted her head back slightly. His lips met her skin once before he pulled away.

"You don't know what this is doing to me," he said.

"We should go," Arya said. 'Before we do something we regret again,' she thought.

Jon suddenly pulled her to his chest. Arya held on to him tightly, as if this single embrace was enough to make her worries disappear. But it wasn't. These feelings that were surfacing in her heart for Jon were so wrong yet they felt strong. Somehow... calming. 

He nuzzled his head in her neck and Arya clutched tighter. This was how they had met after she returned. But this time, it felt different. 

They pulled away and Jon whispered,

"You go on, I'll stay for a while."

Arya looked at him then at Lyanna Stark.

"She is beautiful," she said.

"Yes." 

Arya nodded at him and walked out of the crypts. She fisted her hands to her sides. Jon wasn't really her brother, but they had grew up together as siblings. How could she forget that? Arya felt disgusted at herself. 

Her head needed to clear. She decided to go to Jaqen, to see if the Maester had given him the milk of the poppy yet. 'If he hasn't, maybe I'll tell him to heal him some other way,' she thought, 'I need to talk to Jaqen.'

But as soon as she entered the room the bed was empty. 

"Jaqen?" She asked aloud.

"A girl should close the door," a voice came from beside her. Jaqen was standing behind the door. Arya did as he said and closed the door.

"Thank heavens, Jaqen you are okay. After what the Maester said, another-"

Her voice was cut off when he came into her view. He had a dagger in his hand. 

"A man is sorry, lovely girl," Jaqen whispered, "a man has served the Many Faced God for years. Long before he met a girl. He must serve still. A girl has broken her vows. She must pay."

Arya's eyes widened. She quickly went to the other side of the room. She searched the bed and the table.

"There's no other weapon in the room. I had this on me. There's no need to try," he said, slowly walking towards her.

"But why?" Arya asked. There were tears in her eyes, "you let me go! You could've stopped me that day but you didn't. You let me go!"

"Jaqen H'ghar didn't stop a girl. He never could. But a man forgot he was No One, and No One must serve his God."

"Jon! Jon! Jon!" Arya screamed as Jaqen went close to her and put the dagger close to her neck. 

"Do not shout, lovely girl. If he comes here, it will only be worse."

Arya body shook. Jon, I love you. She closed her eyes for the impact of the blade. 

The door opened loudly and Arya opened her eyes to see Jon standing there with wide eyes.

"Jon!" She shouted. But before she could escape, Jaqen was behind her, clutching her back to his chest. 

Jon pulled out Longclaw. 

"Get away from her!" He roared.

Arya tried to pull away but Jaqen grasped her tighter.

"Her life belongs to the Many Faced God. He must have it back." 

"I will kill you! Let her go and it won't be painful," Jon's voice was seething with anger.

Arya's head felt heavy. Suddenly she saw Jon's jaw drop as he stared at Jaqen. Or is it...

She turned her head to look back but it wasn't Jaqen there anymore. It was a woman with red hair. Jaqen had changed his face. The woman smiled at Jon and spoke,

"You know nothing, Jon Snow."

Arya saw Jon's hand drop. He stood still as if hit by something. 

"Ygritte...,"

"Can you kill me again, Jon? Do you have it in you?" The woman said.

Arya too puzzled at what was happening, twitched again and the dagger in the woman's hand went into the side of her stomach. She screamed and fell down. She saw Jon running towards them but suddenly everything went black and her body felt numb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the books, I don't think the FM can change whoever's faces they want. They only take the faces that are in the Hall of Faces. But in S05EP10, they showed that the dead man had Arya's face too. I used that theory here: that the FM can change into anyone they want.   
> Hope you liked this chapter. Please drop a comment. Any kind of feedback is appreciated. ♡♡


	7. Chapter 7

Jon

Jon's head filled with images of Ygritte. Kissed by fire. The first woman he laid with. The first woman he fell in love with. The woman holding Arya wasn't Ygritte, he knew, but his hands shook when he thought about hurting her. Her death scene began to show in flashes in his mind, the disappointment of the tragic hour returning. He looked at Arya who was struggling against her. 

Before Jon could decide though, Arya twisted in her grasp and the dagger in the woman's hand pierced through her side.

Jon's eyes went wide with horror as Arya let out a scream and dropped to her knees. He ran towards her but the woman showed him the dagger that was still in her hands, Arya's blood dripping from it.

He looked at Arya again who had dropped on the floor, eyes closed. Blood rushed out from the side of her waist.

"Arya!" He shouted.

"Do not come closer, Jon Snow. Or I will end her life." 

"You are not Ygritte," Jon spat, "Arya rescued you! If not for her you would have rotted in the woods and no one would know. She said you were her friend!"

The woman's face turned sullen.

"You know nothing. No one was Jaqen H'ghar's friend. But now she is Arya Stark and I am No One," she said, "her friend wouldn't have blinked an eye in letting her go, but her God demands payment."

"I will kill you!" Jon warned.

Before he could try to though, an arrow ripped through the air and went into the woman's chest. Then another. Then another, until the dagger fell from her hands. Jon took this opportunity to attack her and shoved his sword in her stomach. He took her dagger and threw it across the room to the other side.

"You did it again, Jon." The woman said staring at him. She looked exactly like Ygritte. But Ygritte was dead.

"Jon!" A voice called from behind him. He turned to see Rickon standing there with his bow and arrows. His face was filled with horror. Jon turned to the woman then the limp body on the floor. He crouched down on the floor beside her. 

"Arya! Arya!" He shouted, but she was still limp in his arms. 'Gods, please. Arya, Arya, Arya,' he reapeated her name in his mind over and over again. 

"Snow!" He heard Theon's voice. The guards had arrived. 

"You take Arya to the Maester. We will take care of this bitch," Theon said.

Jon nodded and picked her up in his arms gently, careful not to put pressure on the wound. He wemt directly to her room, carrying her to her bed and laid her down there. He clasped her hands between his own and kissed them fervently.

"Nothing will happen to you, Arya, I promise." 

The door opened and the Maester walked in with Sansa and Rickon.

"My Lord."

"She is bleeding. Help her, please," he begged.

"I will, My Lord. But you need to leave this room while I treat her."

"I am not leaving her side!" Jon shouted.

"Jon please, let us go. The more we delay, the more risk we put her in. Please, Jon." Sansa pleaded, her eyes watering and vojce choking.

Jon looked at Arya again. Her wound looked like it was still bleeding. He nodded before leaving with the other two and shut the door behind him. 

As soon as they were outside, Sansa started crying. Rickon held her in his arms, but she wouldn't stop.

"What if something happens to her?" She sobbed.

Jon fisted his hands and replied,

"Nothing will happen to her, Sansa. I will bring her back from the seven hells if I have to. But I won't let anything happen to her, not again."

"Jon, you-" Rickon's voice was interrupted by the loud opening of the door. The Maester walked out with a horrified look on his face.

"My Lords, the Lady...,"

"What of Arya?" Jon asked gripping him by his shoulders.

"I-I-It's poison, My Lord. Probably the weapon had it."

'No!' Jon felt like someone had stabbed him instead. Words wouldn't come out of his mouth. 

"Then give her an antidote!" Rickon exclaimed.

"I am afraid I do not know what kind of poison it is," the Maester said, "it is different. Unfamiliar."

Jon let out a grunt and stormed out. 'I will kill that man!' His blood boiled and his jaw clenched until it hurt. He went to the cells and bid all the guards out. His voice was loud and furious enough not to make them think twice about doing so.

He found her in the third cell, her hands and feet in chains, lying on the ground. 

"What have you done to her?" He asked.

The woman took her hand to her face and pulled something off, and there it was. Jaqen H'ghar.

"You know you have made this more easy for me now? Tell me where is the antidote." 

Jaqen only stared at him. Jon held him by the neck and leaned dangerously close to his face.

"I'll cut you piece by piece until you tell me what I want to know," he spat.

"Wouldn't it be too late by then?" 

Jon punched him in the face. Blood came out of his nose and lips.

"There is no antidote. It is a Braavosi poison," the man said, "you should be grateful a girl didn't get the full knife inside her or she would be dead by now."

"Stop teling me what would have happened. Tell me how to heal her!" 

"Just pray her will is stronger than the poison," he whispered.

Jon thrashed him on the ground and walked out. One more minute and he would kill him, he knew. But he won't let him die yet. He will have to suffer for what he did to Arya. 

Rickon approached him before he could enter her room. 

"Jon, where did you go?"

"The man said there is no antidote," his voice cracked, "she can only survive if she wishes to."

"She does, I am sure." Jon heard the tremble in Rickon's voice. He was scared too. After all he had to endure through his childhood, they were finally back as a family, and in spite of his efforts to be calm, Rickon was failing.

"Yes." 'She has to,' Jon thought.

He entered the room to find Sansa sitting near her bed, Theon standing behind her. She turned to look at Jon and managed a small smile.

"The Maester has bandaged her wound. It is not bleeding now. He's gone to inspect his herbs, to find anything that might...," her voice broke.

Theon put his hand on her shoulder and Jon noticed it was shaking.

"Sansa, we should leave Jon with Arya for a little while," he whispered to her soothingly. Sansa hesitated but nodded eventually. She took Theon's arm and walked out of the room, throwing a glance at Jon.

After the door was closed, Jon inched closer to the bed. Arya's face looked pale and calm. The Maester had cut off the lower half of her tunic and bandaged her abdomen. He sat near her and stroked her hair softly. He remembered how he loved doing that. How many times during the years he had wanted to do that, ruffle her hair and hold her close, to make sure she was safe and happy. 

But he failed. He had failed then, and he had failed now. For the sake of becoming someone worthy, he had abandoned her. He wondered sometimes what would've happened if he'd just stayed at Winterfell. He could've fought beside Robb, he could've kept Arya safe. The regrets never stopped. But watching Arya lying wounded, his heart broke. 

This regret was the biggest, because he was right there, close to her and he couldn't stop her from hurting. He should've stopped her from bringing that man. His instincts had told him to do so, but he didn't. 

Jon leaned down and pressed a kiss on her forehead.

"You'll be fine, Arya. I promise," Jon said. He wasn't sure if it was her he was consoling or himself. "I am sorry."

"Do be so hard on yourself, Snow," Theon's voice came from behind him. Jon turned and saw him walking towards them.

"I should have protected her," Jon said looking at Arya.

Theon put a hand on his shoulder.

"Arya Stark needing your protection? Tell her that and she would probably stab you in the guts." 

"She probably would. But look at her, Theon," he said pointing to her, "I cannot watch her like this. The thought of losing her again kills me."

Theon took a seat beside him.

"She is strong, Jon. And she didn't expect betrayal from her friend. No one does." 

Jon looked at the man beside him. He knew Theon still couldn't get over what he'd done to Robb. Jon didn't feel sorry for his guilt, but he did feel a sense of melancholy. All of them, Arya, Rickon, Theon, himself, even Sansa, were still haunted by their pasts. The war had ended, but it had left so much ash and dust that would take years to clean. Maybe they never would. 

"Prince Aegon wrote to Lord Rickon," Theon said. His brother's name caught Jon's attention. "He will be delayed in arriving here. He is at Moat Cailin. His horses seem to have caught some disease."

Jon couldn't help but feel a little grateful for this delay. He had almost forgot about the marriage offer. He wondered if Arya would accept him. The thought made his breath catch involuntarily. He remembered what had happened in the crypts. Gods, he had felt so... different. Guilty, but different. His hands fisted when he imagined Aegon kissing Arya. 'You fool!' He cursed himself.

Theon seemed to sense his discomfort.

"Snow?" He asked.

"Do you think she'll accept him?" Jon asked. His voice was low.

"I do not know. If she loves him, then yes, probably." He glanced at Jon, "Do you want her to accept him?" 

Jon looked at Theon surprised. 'No!' His mind said instantly, but he kept his words to himself. 

"I don't know..."

Theon smiled lightly.

"You are still stubborn, you know?" He said.

"What do you mean?" Jon asked puzzled.

"Nothing. I must go," he said, rising to his feet, "she'll be alright, Jon. She won't leave you just yet." 

That day went without any improvement in Arya. The Maester said he couldn't find anything that could help her. Jon could only glare at him, but he knew it wasn't his fault.

Jon spent most of his time in Arya's bedside. Sansa came once, to tell him he should rest or at least eat something, but he wouldn't listen.

Jon barely closed his eyes. His mind was occupied with thoughts of Arya. Her laugh, her eyes, her scorn, all flashing in his mind. He even felt like crying once, but stopped himself. 'She'll be fine. There's nothing to worry about.' He spent the night in the chair beside her bed, and in spite of himself, he slowly nodded off to sleep a few hours later.

**********

There was a scent of melancholy in the air. The leaves ruffled softly as the snow fell. There was no prey today, he could sense. The wolf walked silently, the sound of his feet muffled by the snow. 

Suddenly there was another scent, one of death and blood, but still it seemed to beckon him. He paused in his tracks and looked around. Everything was hidden in the dark of night. To his far right a raven cried. Then he turned and saw then. Eyes. Golden eyes staring at him from behind the trees. 

He started to run towards them but as he went closer the eyes started to disappear among the trees. He ran as fast as his legs could take him, his nose searching for the familiar and strong scent, his red eyes searching the lighter ones. But by the time he reached those trees, the eyes were gone and the scent too started fading away. 

The direwolf ran back to his master at breakneck speed, his white coat covered with snow. He waited outside the castle for a moment then with a growl, went inside.

"Ghost!" 

Jon's breathy voice sounded like a scream in the silence of the night, even to himself. He glanced his surroundings and it dawned on him he was still in Arya's room. His breathing was ragged and his body was drenched with sweat. He stood and went to the window, opening the shutters slightly. Th cold wind caressed his face and he breathed it in, but his mind went to the girl laying in the bed. 'She'll feel cold.' He closed the windows when he heard a growl outside his door. 

Jon went to the door and opened it to find his direwolf sitting and looking up at him. His hand touched his fur.

"Ghost," Jon smiled, "where were you?" 

But Ghost instantly walked past him and propped up on the bed beside Arya. He tucked his head under her arm and leaned up to lick her face. 

"Make her wake up," Jon whispered. He went to close the door when a weak whisper came from behind him.

"Jon...," 

His head instantly turned and he hurried towards her, his eyes burning and throat dry. He dropped to his knees and took her face in his hands. It felt a little warmer than before.

"Arya, Arya. Love please wake up."

"Jon...," 

Her eyes opened slowly and Jon's heart almost stopped when he saw those grey eyes. He kissed her on her forehead and cheeks.

"You're with me," he whispered, taking her palm and pressing it to his cheek.

Arya smiled weakly and stroked his cheek.

"I am sorry I worried you."

"No, love. You don't have to apologise," Jon kissed her palm.

"I feel tired," Arya whispered, "maybe I'll rest a bit."

Jon nodded. He pulled the covers up to her neck and stroked her forehead. Ghost tucked under the covers with her and she laughed lightly. Jon sighed in relief. 'Arya.'

"Jon?" She whispered lazily.

"Yes?" 

"I dreamt of you. You told me to stay." 

Jon stared at her. Her wound was the only thing stopping him from crushing her to his chest. He leaned closer to her face, feeling her warm breath mingling with his own. His lips met hers in a chaste kiss, but still he closed his eyes. 

"Goodnight, love." He said stroking her hair once more.

"You won't stay?" Her voice was pleading.

"I...," the words caught in his throat. Arya was looking at him expectantly. 

"I love you, Jon. Goodnight." She broke his stupor, and clutched the covers, turning her face away from him. Jon's chest tightened at the words, though he couldn't understand why. They were innocent enough, or were they? The tension in the air resurfaced. He knew better than to stay and make it worse.

He looked at Ghost who was comfortably curled up against Arya. 'At least I'll know she is safe.' He opened the door and walked out. 

"Open the door, Jon!" Sansa's voice shouted from outside. Jon groaned and got up from the bed. His head felt heavy because of the inadequate amount of sleep.

"Jon, will you jus-" 

He opened the door before she could finish. Sansa was standing there with a big grin on her face.

"What?" He groaned.

"Arya's awake!" She almost screamed.

"I know."

"How?" She raised an eyebrow. 

"She woke up when I was with her."

"And you didn't tell me!" She exclaimed loudly.

"Sansa," he grimaced, "my ears hurt."

"And they should. She asked after you, so I thought I'd come tell you."

"Is she alright now?" 

"Yes," she sighed, "though she is being quite persuasive."

"About what?" Jon asked puzzled.

"She wants to get up from the bed and go outside. And we won't let her."

"She should not get up just yet. She should be resting."

"So the Maester says. But she isn't listening."

"I'll talk to her." Jon said. 

Sansa nodded. Jon closed the door and wore his cloak. Arya could be so stupid sometimes.

He walked into her room and saw her standing near the window, looking out.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

She turned smiling, and rolled her eyes.

"Jon, I am fine. I can stand."

He raised an eyebrow at her, smirking, 

"Really, Lady Stark?" He sat on the bed. She walked towards him and punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"That hurt, Lord Snow?"

Jon smirked.

"Just a little, My Lady."

She chuckled amd sat beside him on the bed, nudging his shoulder with hers. 

After a few minutes of silence she spoke, 

"Who is she?" 

Jon looked at her sullenly. He knew who she was referring to.

"Ygritte," he whispered.

"Are you in love with her?" She asked.

"I was."

She turned to him and stared.

"And now?" 

Jon thought about it. Yes, he will always love Ygritte. But was he in love with her still? 'I don't know anything, truly,' he sighed.

He looked at Arya who was staring in front of her now, biting her lip. She was probably waiting for his answer. Then suddenly she looked at him and said, her voice low.

"You don't have to tell. It is probably not my place to ask."

Jon didn't say anything. What should he tell her? Yes, it was her place. She could bloody ask him anything she wants! But then, he would have to answer her question. Is he in love with Ygritte still, after all these years? If yes, why does this girl sitting next to him feels like the most important person to him? He couldn't ever thing of hurting Ygritte but if it comes to Arya... would he?

Arya inched closer to him and took his face in her hands,

"It is fine, Jon. We all have things we don't want to talk about." She smiled and it tugged something deep inside Jon's heart. His hand shifted to her neck and he pulled her into a kiss. Arya's seemed suurprised at first, but then started kissing him back. Her lips were gentle and warm, opposite of what he thought they were.. 

It lasted for a while but Jon didn't pull away this time. He pulled her close, careful not to put too much weight on her. When they pulled away finally, Arya was breathing rapidly. Her cheeks were flushed with the softest shade of pink, making her pale skin look like roses. 'Gods!'

Before he could apologize, Arya put her thumb on his bottom lip and trailed it, whispering,

"Don't."

Jon felt like he was burning. He knew this fire. He had felt it when he had first kissed Ygritte. But this time, it was different. It was overwhelming, impatient. 

It wasn't one brothers should normally feel for sisters. 'She is your cousin, not your sister.' Maybe that thought was the only one keeping him from losing his ground and admitting the immoral thing he knew he was beginning to commit. So he pushed it away. He needed to keep himself in place. If he ended up kissing her like this everyday, Gods know he won't be able to keep control.

"I was one of them."

He turned to look at her. She was biting her lip again, clutching her hands together tightly, fidgeting in her spot.

"The Faceless Men," she went on, "I was a servant of the Many Faced God, just like they were. I killed people with my own hands. Ripped their throats, gave them poison, seduced them and then stabbed their guts. I am a killer."

Jon saw the hint of tears in her eyes. He held her in his arms and she shivered. She touched his arms slightly, as if afraid he would push her away.

"If you hate me now, I'd understand."

Jon heard the fear in her voice. 

"Can I ever hate you, Arya? Do you think I love you that little? We all have killed. The war has made monsters out of us all."

She clutched his clothes.

"Don't leave me alone again." She choked out between sobs. Jon held her tightly and kissed her head.

"Never."

No. It wasn't possible. He can't love anyone more than he loved this girl.

"Never," he whispered again.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave a review and tell me what you liked/did not like. Every word from you is appreciated and loved. ♡♡


	8. Chapter 8

Arya

The snow made it difficult to go outside for anyone. Arya sat in her bed and gazed out of the window. How she had missed the snow while in Braavos. The North was her home. She was born in ice. Warmth had felt almost unfamiliar. 

Staying so long in her chambers had frustrated her. She was not one to be bound within walls. But she knew better than to argue with Sansa. That woman was turning more into Lady Catelyn by the minute. 

Her mother's name never stopped to make her anxious. At that time, she blamed the Hound for not letting her go in to save her brother and her mother. But she knew better now. 'I would've died too. They would've killed me if I had went in.' 

It wasn't daybreak yet. She had been woken up by another nightmare; they seemed more frequent now. Ever since Jaqen tried to kill her, the nightmares revisited her. They had stopped after she had returned, after the one she had on the first night. She had woken up screaming, and was grateful there was no one outside her door. She didn't want anyone to know, she hated pity.

She decided to go see Jaqen once she was healed properly. As much as she would deny, the wound still hurt if she moved too much. Jon and the others would lock her up properly this time if the wound worsened, she was very much sure.

She got up and walked out of the room. Everyone was probably asleep, and no one would know if she roamed around the castle a little bit. 

She walked through the corridors silently, making her way towards the left. From the window, she glanced down to see some guards scattered around the grounds. A few of them were practising their blades, others just sitting and talking. It almost looked unreal. The war had left little hope of peace, but still people survived. Arya herself had been so close to the war, yet so far. She may have been in Braavos, but the few times she came back here to shorten her list, all she could do was kill the person she was meant to kill. She hadn't taken part in the war directly. Maybe if she did, Gendry would've been alive. Maybe she could've found Bran too. Her brother. She still felt he was alive. Some part of her refused to believe he was dead.

Arya kept walking and before she realised, she was outside Sansa's room. She would've passed by it silently but then Sansa opened the door and both of them gasped at the same time. 

"Arya, it's not even morning. You should be resting."

"And you should be sleeping."

"I don't know why I woke up this early. Quite unusual of me," Sansa smiled. "So I thought I'd visit the crypts."

"I will come with you," Arya proposed. 

"But Arya-"

"Please, Sansa," Arya sighed. "Stop treating me like a fragile little girl. I am alright now. My wound is almost healed completely."

Sansa hesitated but after a while nodded and taking a candle in one hand, closed the door to her room behind her. 

"Why could't you sleep?" Arya heard Sansa ask.

"I don't know," she said simply.

"Has the Prince already taken away your sleep, sister?"

Arya scrunched up her nose.

"I still stand by what I said, you know," Sansa said. Arya glanced sideways at her sister. "You won't marry for anything else but love."

Arya noticed the determination in her voice. Although she wanted to retort by saying that she was never going to marry anyway, she kept silent. There was a sort of storm around Sansa. Jon had once told her about what had happened to her siblings while she was away; Rickon in Skaagos, Sansa in King's Landing, then in the Eyrie.

'The war has made monsters out of us all.' Sansa had her own monsters too, she was sure of it. Joffrey was a stupid shit, and what she'd heard of Littlefinger hadn't been good either. She could understand her concern, it was too obvious. Sansa would never want to see Arya go through something that she had. Sansa was done with knights in shining armours.

The crypts had a distinct silence. The sisters' footsteps were the only sound, echoing through the darkness. 

Sansa put the candle aside. Arya looked at the statues. Beside Lyanna Stark were two stone slabs with the names of the Starks written; Eddard Stark, Robb Stark. There were no statues. Arya ran her fingers over them.

"I didn't see them here the last time," she whispered, "maybe it was too dark."

'Or maybe you were too busy looking at Jon.' She shook the thought away.

"Jon had these built. He said Father's and Robb's souls belonged in Winterfell, no matter where there bodies may be buried. We just hope their souls are here with us."

Arya took her sister's hand. Her eyes went to the other statue.

"Has Jon told you about his... parents?" Sansa asked.

"Yes. He is our cousin, apparently."

Sansa nodded.

"Why didn't he want to get legitimized?" 

"He said he is happy to be a Snow, that Targaryen would not suit him well."

A hint of a smile made its way to Arya's lips. 'Of course. He was a bastard and he hated it, and now that he's a Prince he'd rather stay a bastard. Silly Jon.'

"But I think I know the real reason why he didn't want to be called a Targaryen," Sansa said.

"What is it?" Arya asked curiously.

"It was because of you, Arya. Theon told me that one day Jon said that he didn't want to change his name because it might sound too unfamiliar to you. And he didn't want to be a stranger with you when you returned." Sansa smiled.

Arya's inhaled deeply. That did sounded like Jon. But doesn't he know? 'You'll always be Jon Snow to me.'

"He's stupid."

Sansa chuckled and touched Lyanna's hand, then turned to look at Arya.

"Father said you looked like her. I was more like Mother, but you, you were always so wild, so carefree and rebellious. One day Father told us you'd be just like Lyanna one day, a wild northern she-wolf. I laughed at it then. I think I see what he meant."

Arya stared into the eyes of the statue. Lyanna Stark was a beauty, that was true. Father seemed to love her, but never mentioned her more than a few times. Arya realised why she and Jon looked so alike.

"We are still way too different," Arya murmured. 'Could she kill like me? Were her hands stained with blood? Was her heart forced to stop caring? Was she ever No One?'

"Maybe that is one of the reasons Aegon is attracted to you. You know, the Targaryen-Stark thing," Sansa grinned.

'Is that what makes me want Jon?' She thought. 

"I'm not Lyanna, Sansa. I am Arya Stark. And Aegon isn't Rhaegar," she stated. "I cannot be won by roses."

"By what, then?" 

"Nothing that he can give me," Arya said, then turned to Sansa. "What of you? Aren't you going to get married? I think Aegon should marry you instead of me."

Sansa shook her head smiling.

"I have had my fill of marriages, sister. I'd like to be by myself for a while."

"Still," Arya sighed. "I do not know how I ended up being the only one caught up in this. Isn't anyone else getting married?"

"Rickon is too young," Sansa said chuckling. "Jon could marry, I guess."

"No!" Arya exclaimed, rather loudly.

Sansa looked at her and raised a brow. 

"I-I mean, he couldn't possibly want to marry anyone."

Arya swiftly looked away. What had she done! She shouldn't have said that. Arya only hoped Sansa didn't hear the hint of jealousy in her voice.

Sansa hummed slightly and nodded. 

After that, silence followed. Arya cursed herself inwardly for exclaiming like that. What was with her and restlessness these days? Obviously, Jon will have to marry someday. The thought made a string of emotions run through her; sadness, jealousy, anger. 'Is this how he felt when he learned about Aegon?' She doubted that. 'He was just angry because I hadn't told him about Aegon. It had nothing to do with jealousy.' Arya bit her lip.

"We should go," she said.

"Arya?" Sansa asked.

Arya turned to her sister who was looking at their father's slab.

"Is there something you wish to tell me?" She asked softly.

Arya bit her lip again. 

"No."

"Come then," Sansa said, linking their arms together. "We should be getting back."

It was already morning by the time they returned to the castle. Arya didn't understand how they had taken that long in the crypts. 'I am getting stupider.'

People were already up and about, the castle seemed more busy than usual. Sansa stopped a maid by her arm.

"Why are you all in such a hurry?" 

"Milady, Lord Rickon told-"

"Let her go, sister. I'll explain everything if you'd come to me," Rickon shouted from the other end of the hallway. The maid hurried away. Arya looked surprisingly at Sansa who herself seemed oblivious to anything.

"You go," Arya said, pulling their arms apart. "I will go to my room. Matters of the castle are not much of my concern."

But as she tried to walk away, Rickon shouted again,

"Arya, you come as well."

Arya rolled her eyes and followed Sansa. 

"I received a raven," Rickon said when the three of them were close enough. 

"And?" Sansa asked curiously.

"The Prince is arriving tonight." 

'What?' Arya groaned and both of them turned to look at her.

"Didn't you say he will be delayed?" She asked.

"That was what Lady Asha's raven said. It was true, I'm sure. But that was a week ago. He says he wishes to meet Lady Arya soon."

"Gods! I am going to my room. I can't hear this!" 

Arya entered her room and her head felt like bursting. She didn't for the seven hells know what she was going to do now. When Aegon comes, she will reject him, but what if he persists? What if he is also stubborn along with being ridiculously stupid? 

She could talk to him when he arrived. Arya desperately wanted to what had made that man think she'd marry her in the first place. She met him once. And he only knew her name, nothing else. How can a man fall in love with someone he met just once? 'He didn't even see my face properly!'

Arya wondered if Sansa's words were true. Was this because she looked like Lyanna and he was Rhaegar's son?

And then there was Jon. When Sansa said those words, her first thought was about Jon. She didn't exactly know what Jon was to her anymore. 'My brother? My cousin?' Siblings didn't kiss each other, neither did cousins, at least not like that.

The memory of his lips on hers still lingered fresh. When he had pulled her closer, she had shut out everything. Every sane thought, every moral, every part of her brain telling her this was sin, and so very wrong.

It had happened a few days ago. Since then, Jon hadn't entered her chambers alone again. He always had someone with him; Sansa, Rickon, Theon, or the Maester.

Arya didn't try to reach out to him either. It was too confusing and strange. It wasn't that they didn't talk, they did. But some of the openness was gone. While he talked, Arya glanced into his eyes and she saw guilt there. He was ashamed. 'Of course he would. He is Jon, after all,' she thought.

Arya wasn't guilty, but she had decided not to kiss Jon again. She would control herself, it was what she'd always done. She didn't want Jon and her relationship to turn to one of awkwardness and confusion and guilt. She wanted them to be best friends again. Why was it becoming so hard to see him as the same Jon as he'd been before she left? She knew he wasn't the same, but she should've seen him as such. Didn't he love her the same as he did before they separated? Didn't she love him the same? Then why was their relationship so different now? 

Arya stayed in her room till late afternoon. She had closed her door and practised with Needle. The maids had knocked at her door twice to ask if she was hungry. Honestly, all she felt was rage. 'Fuck that bloody Prince!' 

Arya felt sleepy after a while and laid down on her bed. She had fallen asleep somewhere around the afternoon. She woke up when she heard a knock at the door. 

"Who is it?" She asked.

"Arya, it's me," Sansa said. "Can I come in?"

"Yes."

Sansa walked in and her brow rose when she looked at her sister. 

"You're sleeping in the middle of the day?"

"I was a little tired, is all," she crawled up to a sitting position. "Come, sit."

"No, I don't think so. I only came to gave you these dresses. The seamstress made these for you. I think you should wear one of these for tonight."

Only then Arya noticed the heap of clothes Sansa was carrying. She wanted to protest, but nothing would come of it, she knew. 

"Do I really have to?" 

"It's just a dress, Arya." Sansa smiled.

Arya frustratingly rose from the bed and took them from Sansa's hands. 

"Are you going to stand here?" Arya asked.

"No, no. I was just going." Sansa went and closed the door after her. "Come to the hall when you're ready."

Arya rubbed the clothes between her fingers. They were silk, and felt the smoothest. Arya wondered how long it had been since she'd wore something like this; her ninth name day. It felt like another lifetime.

She quickly got ready. The dress felt very alien and for a moment she doubted if she could move in it at all. The sleeves hanged low and her shoulders were bare. Among the clothes was also a box, which contained jewels. Arya chose a ruby and placed the necklace around her neck. Her hair fell in waves around her shoulder. When she looked at herself on the mirror, it almost looked like another person.

Arya made her way down to the hall. The people turned and stared at her. She looked so different it was only obvious. As the guard bowed to her, she entered the hall. The first face she saw was Theon's who was facing her, busy talking to Jon and Rickon. A flash of surprise came over his features when he looked her way. He stopped talking entirely and nodded in her direction smiling slightly, at which Jon and Rickon turned. 

Rickon's eyes widened and he gaped at Arya. She winked at him and grinned. But when her eyes fell on Jon... oh dear god! His mouth was open, and he was staring at her as if he was looking at a ghost. The ghost of Harrenhal. Arya's grin widened at the thought and she made her way to them.

"Lady Arya, you look beautiful," Theon said, smiling.

Arya rolled her eyes. "No Lady."

"What happened to you?" Rickon exclaimed. 

"Nothing. What could happen to me?"

"I-I...,"

"Aegon is coming," Arya smirked. "So I got ready for him."

Rickon sighed.

"Of course you did, sister. Just don't kill him. We could risk war."

Arya smiled slyly. "Of course not. Killing him is not my intention at all. I am just going to talk to him, is all."

"Well, good luck with that. I will go now. I must find Sansa."

With that he patted her back and walked away. Arya laughed lightly and turned to look at the other two men. Theon shook Jon by the shoulder but he was still staring at her. 

"Jon!" Theon shouted. 

Jon shook out of his stupor and looked at Theon.

"Are you coming with me or not?" Theon asked.

When Jon didn't answer, Theon sighed and walked away, telling Jon to come if he wants. 

Arya smiled and walked towards Jon.

"Arya?"

"Glad you finally found your voice."

"You look... different," he said, eyeing her carefully.

"A good kind of different, I hope?" She smiled teasingly.

Jon shook his head.

"And here I thought you weren't a Lady."

"I am not!" Arya exclaimed, punching him lightly. "I just want to give the Prince a good welcome." 

Arya heard Jon's sharp intake of breath.

"You'll marry him?" Jon asked.

"Don't be stupid, Jon! I am not marrying anyone. All I want is to send him out of here as soon as I can."

Jon nodded. Arya watched him stare at her. This staring contest between them would drive her crazy someday, she was sure. 

"Milady! Milord! The Prince is here. Lord Rickon has called for you!"

The servant left as soon as he had came. Arya stepped towards Jon and took his arm, clutching it a bit too tightly. 

"We should go," she proposed.

"Yes, sister." 

The word stung somewhere deep. He hadn't called her cousin, he called her sister. Both of them knew she wasn't his half-sibling anymore. But at least now it was clear that he still thought of her as his little sister. 'He probably thinks everything was a mistake,' she thought, glancing at him. 'Why can't I?'

"There they are."

Sansa gave both of them a warm smile. Jon pulled his arm away from Arya and stood by Rickon's side. Arya fumbled her hands together at the loss of contact. She looked at Jon who was standing silently, not even looking at her once. 

"You look beautiful, Arya."

"Your fault," Arya mumbled.

Sansa chuckled and clasped her hand.

"He is early," Arya commented.

"Maybe he couldn't stay away from his bethrothed." Sansa winked at her. 

"Not yet."

The gates opened and the men entered. Arya recognized Aegon the moment her eyes fell on the silver-haired man. He rode at the front, to his side were three of the Kingsguard; about five dozen menp at his back. Arya's eyes met with the Targaryen's and she took a deep breath. His hair had grown since the last time she'd seen him. She saw Aegon's lips form into a grin. 

The men unmounted when Rickon went down on his knee.

"Prince Aegon. Welcome to Winterfell."

Aegon nodded.

"Lord Rickon."

Arya saw Aegon's eyes fix on Jon. Both of them stared at each other. After a moment, the Prince smiled.

"Brother."

"Prince Aegon," Jon said and bowed. But he was surprised when Aegon embraced him. 

"We are of the same blood. You should never bow before me, brother," Aegon said when they pulled apart. 

Jon hesitated but still nodded his head. Aegon was introduced to Sansa and Theon and before Arya knew it, he was standing right infront of her.

"My Lady," he grinned and taking her hand, pulled the back of it to his lips.

Arya's eyes widened and she pulled it away quickly.

"What was that?" 

"I was simply showing you my happiness at seeing you finally," he said. "You look breathtaking, Arya Stark."

In spite of her, a light blush crept to her cheeks, and she turned her head to her side, looking away from him. 

"Prince Aegon, I presume you're tired. Why don't you take some rest?" Rickon asked. "Your men too."

Aegon turned to him and nodded. He looked at Arya once more before leaving with Rickon. Arya stared at his back as he walked away.

"Well, that was something." Arya turned to her sister who was smiling mischieviously at her. "You were blushing, Arya. Didn't look like you were rejecting him at all."

"Shut up, Sansa." 

"He seems to like you though. I have to go now, the rooms have to be prepared and so many things are to be done." She kissed Arya on the cheek. "I'll see you."

Arya saw Jon and Theon talking. She approached them but when Jon looked at her, he whispered something to Theon and turned to walk away. 

"Jon, wait!" Arya exclaimed.

"I have to go, Arya. Theon and I have to organize the living arrangements for the men," he said without looking at her.

"I think I can manage that on my own, Snow. You should stay with Ar-" 

"No!" Jon stopped Theon midsentence. Before another protest, he left. 

Theon looked carefully at Arya.

"Is everything alright between you two?" 

"I don't know...," Arya whispered.

"You two are something. One minute, you're hugging and laughing and the next, you stare at each other as if you do not know one another at all."

"Maybe we don't," Arya said.

"I know it's not my place to ask, Arya, but it wasn't like this before. You two never acted like strangers before. Is everything okay?"

Arya nodded.

"Everything's fine. He is probably having a headache or something. Thank you for the concern." 

"Is that sarcasm?" 

"No," Arya's mouth twitched. "Maybe."

"Arya?" Theon asked softly.

Arya turned to look at him. 

"I-I-I am sorry. For what I did to Robb."

Arya was surprised at the sudden outburst. 

"I don't think we should talk about that now," she warned. She knew her anger would flare if this subject was breached any further. Too many memories.

"Your siblings are kind. They forgave me. Or are trying to, but... I know you wanted to kill me when you saw me here. Believe me, Arya, nobody in this world has ever wanted to kill me more than myself."

"I can't ever forgive you, Theon," Arya said. "But I haven't slit your throat yet, so that's something."

Theon looked at her and smiled.

"Lord Eddard would be proud of you."

"For not killing you?" Arya raised a brow teasingly.

Theon laughed.

"No, for being the wolf you are. You have made so many people happy by coming back. And I am sure Jon tops that list."

Arya nodded. Jon.

That night she didn't have nightmares. She dreamed about the days long lost. Snow fights with her father, those stupid sewing lessons with her mother, fighting with Robb and Jon and Jory, getting dirty with Rickon, climbing trees with Bran playing pranks on Sansa and Theon, the wolf pups huddled together, just like their human counterparts.

At last she dreamed of Jon. Him giving her Needle and her jumping in his arms. The tears that fell from her eyes, the ones that he succeeded in hiding. 

She woke up in the middle of the night panting. Her face was drenched with sweat. Even with her heart racing, she felt sleepy again. She had to talk to Aegon, she had to talk to Jon. There was so much to be done tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, people. The vacations are over and it's back2school time. I wish I could live forever writing fanfics and drinking cokes, but that ain't happening. *sad face*  
> I would like to apologize in advance. The chapters may be a little late in coming (maybe not). Please just bear with me. I love ya all. ♡♡  
> Don't forget to leave a comment. Your thoughts are loved and cherished. ♡♡


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pure Jon/Arya fluff. There is very little of Aegon (or anyone else, for that matter) in it. I hope you enjoy this. And sorry for taking so long. Cheers!

Jon

"So, where's your direwolf?" Aegon asked as he took a seat beside Jon. 

"He doesn't stay much nowadays. Must be hunting somewhere."

Aegon casually put his hand on Jon's shoulder. 

"You don't have to be so formal with me all the time."

"I am being formal with the Prince of Westeros."

Aegon sighed.

"Then think of me as your brother."

"I don't think so," Jon said. "I am a bastard."

Jon's head was aching. He'd wanted some silence but it seemed like he couldn't have it. Aegon was far from being silent, as he already knew. 

"When did you meet Arya?" Jon asked suddenly.

Aegon turned and looked surprised at his question at first. 

"During the war. Some days after we'd captured Jaime Lannister."

Jon's eyes widened. He turned fully to face Aegon. 

"You met her then and you didn't tell me? You knew I had searched everywhere for her!"

"I am sorry, Jon," Aegon said. "I should have, but you were fighting. Then I became injured and by the time I healed, you were gone."

"You should've told me still!" Jon tried hard to keep his voice low, but failed miserably. "All that time, I wished for one news of her. You could've wrote to me about her."

"All I knew was her name. I didn't want to be wrong about it. I knew that she was important to you. What if the girl wasn't Arya Stark? Your hopes would have been crushed."

"But I-" Jon stopped himself. What was he doing? This was the Prince. As much as he'd claim himself to be, he wasn't his brother. He could wish not to tell him anything. 

'I should leave.' Jon almost got up when Arya, Rickon and Sansa walked in. 

Jon saw Aegon's face light up instantly. Jon turned to see Arya, but she wasn't looking at Aegon. Instead, her eyes were fixed on him. 'I am sorry I couldn't reach you earlier.' 

"Prince Aegon. Jon," Rickon said.

"Lord Rickon, good to see you." Aegon greeted jovially. He turned to Sansa and smiled. Jon noticed the way his eyes would sneak a glance at Arya even though he wasn't talking to her. He averted his eyes from them and walked over to the window. He heard Aegon and the others chatting, but he didn't hear Arya's voice. 

Jon had ignored Arya. He avoided her after Aegon arrived last night. He avoided her today in the morning. But how could he not? Watching Aegon and Arya even talk made his chest tighten in a strange, suffocating way. It was better not to talk to her. At least, until he got hold of his emotions. 

A hand clutched at his arm from behind. Jon turned and saw Arya standing near him, scrutinizing him. He glanced to the others who were at a distance from them. 

"How long are you going to act like an ass?" 

Jon took her hand to unlatch it from his arm, but she held on tighter.

"Arya, please. You should go. My head hurts. I need to be alone for some time."

"No." Her voice was low but strong. "You will listen to me and you'll talk to me. This can't go on, Jon."

"What am I supposed to do?"

She frowned. 

"You could start by explaining what in the seven hells did I do that you are avoiding me?"

"Lady Arya," Aegon called before Jon could answer. Arya's mouth twitched and Jon could feel her anger rising. She turned to Aegon but her grip was still tight on Jon's arm. 

"I was thinking you could walk with Prince Aegon," Rickon said. "Show him the crypts."

"But brother, I-"

"I think Arya would like it very much," Jon cut her off. He took her hand firmly and removed it from his arm. "Won't you, little sister?"

Arya stared Jon in the eye for what seemed like a lifetime. Jon almost lost the staring battle when Arya smiled rather murderously at him. 

"Of course, dear cousin." She took Aegon's arm and leaned closer to him. In a matter of minutes, both of them were out of the room, and Jon kept staring at the empty space.

"He's a good man," Rickon observed.

"I can't help but wish she accepts him," Sansa sighed. "You could convince her, Jon. She would listen to you."

"I am not convincing anyone of anything," Jon said abruptly. "She can marry whoever she wants to. I have no say in it."

"Jon, are you okay?" Sansa asked worriedly, putting a hand on his shoulder. Only then Jon realised what he's just said, and how strange it must have sounded to them.

"You don't seem very happy that the Prince is here," Rickon frowned. 

Jon cursed himself inwardly. 

"Of course, I am happy Rickon. He's my half-brother."

"But I heard you two were quite the pair back in King's Landing during the war. Doesn't look like it now."

"It's been a long time since I've seen him, is all." Jon sighed and tried to smile. "I am perfectly fine and I am very happy he is here."

"Do you think Arya likes him?" Sansa asked hopefully. 

Jon pondered over the question. Did she like Aegon? By the looks of it, there was very little chance of it, but Aegon seemed intent on having her. What Jon was sure about, was that he didn't like how he looked at her. At all. But what could he do? He was just her cousin.

"I don't know. If you don't mind, I would like to take your leave."

Refusing to meet their eyes, he left the room. Everyone was expecting him to persuade Arya. How could he, when he couldn't even persuade himself. He wanted Aegon to leave, knowing that it was wrong and selfish, knowing that he was his brother.

Jon wanted to deny everything, and he had been pretty successful until the moment he had seen Aegon kiss Arya's hand and felt the tightness in his throat. His hand had fisted to his side, and all he could do was turn away. He had even refused to talk to her properly after that. Maybe then she would ignore him too, but she wouldn't be Arya if she hadn't tried continuously to talk to him. And those looks she threw his way, dear Gods! It was as if she wouldn't blink while putting his head on a spike. 

For the time being though, she was with her would-be-betrothed, and Jon was back to clenching his fists.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

A knock on the door woke him up. He looked outside; the moon shone. It wasn't snowing; a rather strange thing. But Jon wasn't exactly paying attention to the weather. His hand rubbed his eyes and he let out a low groan. 

The person knocked again. Jon unwillingly got up from the bed and opened the door, and froze.

There she was in a nightgown, standing at his doorway in the middle of the night.

All evening he had tried to keep his thoughts about her at bay. When Arya and Aegon had finally returned from their walk, with a smug grin plastered on his face, Jon was almost sure that what everybody had expected was indeed going to be true. But none of them said anything; Arya stomping away from him in an unladylike manner, while Aegon kept grinning at her like a lovesick fool.

Rickon announced that the feast was to be held the next day. Jon remembered the time the King had visited and he had not been allowed in the hall. But it won't be like that this time. He couldn't stay away even if he wanted to.

Before Jon could ask her what she was doing at his doorstep at this hour of the night, Arya stormed inside the room and locked the door behind her swiftly.

"Arya, wha-" 

Jon's words were cut off by the dagger she held at his throat. 

"We need to talk. And if you are going to say that I should go, save yourself the energy. I won't."

"So you're gonna kill me now?" Jon couldn't help but smile at her.

"No. But this help to keep you from running away again," she smirked, tossing the dagger in the air and then catching it again. 

He sighed and sat on his bed. 

"You shouldn't be here this hour at night. If people saw-"

"Nothing will happen, Jon! Can't you stop caring about other people for one second and just do what you want to do!"

"Stop interrupting my words!" Jon shouted.

"Well, you say such stupid things!" She crossed her arms under her chest. "I want you to talk to me, Jon," her voice softened.

"Arya," he murmured. 

Arya stood in front of him and took his face her hands. Jon sighed.

"Why do you keep ignoring me?"

"What do you want me do?" He asked. He placed his hands over hers. 

Arya frowned. "You could have stopped that stupid walk today. You sent me with him deliberately. Do you know how much I wanted to smack him, Jon? Both of you! You are so stupid."

"It didn't look like it. I saw his face. I am going to presume you said yes to marrying him?" He asked, raising a brow, a slight bittterness evident in his voice.

"No!" She exclaimed, pulling her hands away.

"Did you reject him then?"

"Not exactly." 

"Then what to do you want me to do?" He asked again frustatingly. Arya was looking at him strangely. He guessed she was probably angry with him. But he could be wrong too.

"I feel like I barely know you," Jon whispered.

"Don't say that."

Jon didn't look at her face. Her voice was enough to convince him of her rising anger. But he wasn't lying. 

"Don't ever say that!" She said after moments of silence, her voice stiff. "You were the reason I came back, Jon. I remembered you the most. The most, Jon. Don't you fucking say that again!" Jon heard a sob escape out of her.

"Fuck!" He cursed and rushed to where she stood. He tried to touch her face, but she pushed his hand away. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes and Jon felt digusted at himself. How could he make her cry, and for his own selfishness?

"Arya..."

"I hid it, Jon. I had to throw it away, but I couldn't. It was too precious. It reminded me of home, especially you. Needle was your smile, I told myself. I couldn't lose you. Not you of all people." Arya's voice had started breaking. Jon wrapped his arms around her slowly, fearing she would push him away again, but she didn't. He felt her tremble in his arms.

"Please, don't cry. Please, Arya," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. She had always felt small in his arms, but for once she felt fragile.

"I love you, Jon. I love you. If you can't know me, no one can. I want to tell you everything, I swear. But it hurts too much."

"You don't have to tell me anything. I am sorry." Jon slightly pulled away to look at her face. Her tears had soaked his shirt. He touched her cheeks and rubbed away the tears with his fingers. "You know I love you." 

"I don't love Aegon. He is a good man, but I can't marry him."

"You don't have to talk about it," he whispered, frightened that even raising his voice would hurt her.

"But you need to know."

"Arya." He stared into her glazed eyes. Her cheeks were wet and pink. Jon leaned in closer, until he could feel their breaths mingle. Arya gripped him hard on his shoulders. He gulped involuntarily.

"You know what this is," she whispered, breaking the silence.

"It scares me." His hand was placed at the small of her back, drawing circles there with the thumb.

"It shouldn't. And you staying away won't help this." She leaned up and placed a chaste kiss on his right cheek.

He gazed at her face intently. Her grey eyes mirrored his own. He could see the want in them; she wanted him. And no matter how much his conscience resisted it, Jon realised he wanted her too. And in a matter of seconds, the wall fell.

He kissed her hard on the mouth. It wasn't gentle as last time. She gripped his shoulders tighter, the remaining tears in her eyes flowing down her cheeks. Jon shifted his hand from her back to her waist, gripping it tightly, the other hand at the back of her neck. He closed his eyes and kept kissing her, occasionally leaving her lips to lean down and place kisses along her neck and collarbone. Arya let out a contended sigh and he met her lips again, tugging at her lower lip, gently yet possessively at the same time. 

They both pulled away, gasping for air. Jon noticed the smile on her lips, and touched them with his thumb.

"Will you stop talking to me now?" She asked, kissing his fingertip.

"No," he whispered. "I am done regretting. I can't, not with you." He took her face and kissed her again on the lips, then her eyes, and then her cheeks. Arya giggled, and Jon thought she sounded rather girly. But he didn't mind. He would want her any way; girly or not.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" She asked.

"Arya, we can't..."

Arya raised her eybrow at him, making Jon want to kiss it. "I don't want to fuck you or something. I just don't want to sleep alone."

Jon was shocked at her bold choice of words, but instead of scolding her, he simply nodded. Of course he would, could he ever say no to her?

Arya placed her head on the crook of his arm, and he wraped it around her. Jon sighed into her hair, stroking it slowly with the other hand. 

"You still have nightmares?" He asked worriedly.

"Yes," she answered simply. He looked at her. Her face was hidden from his view. 

"What we are doing is wrong, Arya," he murmured. His hands thought otherwise, still holding her tightly against him.

"I know. But does it matter?"

He didn't reply. Maybe the Targaryen blood flowed deeper in his veins than he realised. But of course, his affections for Arya were strong long before he knew about his parentage. Still, he couldn't point out when exactly his feelings for her changed.

Jon was positive at this point that the feelings he had for Arya were no longer fraternal. They were different than that, and if possible, much stronger. He looked at the sleeping form. Judging from her soft breaths, she was already asleep. Jon tugged her closer. 'This can never be,' he thought. They were in an illusion. They could never be together. Even if he wasn't sure if he was in love with her, he knew he was close. But they couldn't be together. 'Now, we are cousins though. And maybe, just maybe...'

0-0-0-0-0-0-0 

"Arya..." the voice was barely a whisper, but she heard it all the same. 

"Who are you?" She looked around frantically, but all she saw was the snow she stood on. It was unbelievingly white, not a single speck of dirt on it. 

As she looked to her right, she saw a tree that wasn't there before. It was as big as the Weirwood Tree, but there were no leaves on it. She stood staring at the tree as if in a trance. 

"Sister," the voice called again. "Arya."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Bran!" Arya gasped and opened her eyes. She tried to turn but Jon's arms were tightly holding her. The day hadn't begun yet. 

Her thoughts drifted to the dream. The voice was surely Bran's. But did it mean that he was alive or merely that she was remembering him? She fought against the urge to wake Jon up. She would talk to him in the morning. Arya looked at him and gently moved a curl away from his face. He was sleeping peacefully, and Arya loved the way his lips parted gently while he breathed.

She pressed a kiss on his chest and snuggled into his warmth. Her leg was over his; she didn't try to move it. 

The nightmare didn't make her wake up that night. She only tugged at his shirt with her hands, and he sleepily kissed her temple numerous times, then fell asleep again, with a content smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There goes! Hope you liked it! Don't forget to leave a review and tell me what you think, even if it's a teeny weeny thought. I love you all. ♡♡


	10. Chapter 10

Arya

Jon's arms were still wrapped around her closely when she woke up. She tried to writhe away from his grasp but failed. Her eyes opened slowly and she took in the sight of him sleeping. The tip of her finger pushed a strand lock of hair from his face and Arya smiled. He always touched her hair but she had done it but a few times. His hair was messy too, just like her. She pressed the locks between her index finger and thumb, then gently passed her hand through it.

He let out a low groan and his eyes opened. A look of surprise crept up on his face, then disappeared as quickly as it had come. 

"Were you looking at me while I was asleep?" He asked teasingly. His hand sneaked through the covers and rested on her waist.

"I can't?" Her brow raised, an amused expression on her face. 

"I didn't say that." Jon seemed to hesitate for a moment before pressing a kiss on her forehead. Arya felt him shift.

"Wait, don't go." 

"Arya, no one should see us like this," he said.

"I have to tell you something," she mumbled. 

Jon sighed and moved back to where he was.

"What is it?"

Arya bit her lip. 'Will he believe me?' The dream was still clear in her eyes, as if it had really happened. The voice she had somehow known to be Bran's. She felt a sharp tug at her heart. 'My little brother.'

"Arya?" She looked up at Jon and her hands gripped his arms.

"I saw a dream last night," her voice faded. "It was Bran."

Jon seemed to contemplate what to say before replying, "Arya, Bran is... gone. We tried to find him, we couldn't."

"No, you don't understand!" She shrunk away from him. "I know it was him. I could feel it, Jon. He is alive, he has to be. I know it!" 

"Maybe it's because you miss him and-"

"Oh come on!" She sat up angrily. "Why don't you believe me? I saw Bran! He was calling me." Jon sat up and Arya took his hands and sighed. "You aren't sure he's dead. He could be alive."

"I want him to be alive too, Arya. Gods know I do, but we can't do anything about it. We looked everywhere," 

"Let me look for him."

"What?" He shook his head. "No."

"Jon, he's my brother!" She shouted.

"And he's my brother too. But I can't let you go Gods know where just because you had a dream." Jon took her face in his hands, but she refused to look at him. "I can't lose you again."

She gripped his hands away. "I survived for six years alone. I think I can manage to stay alive without your help." Her voice was harsh and bitter. Jon mouth turned to a hard line.

"I am teling you this because I care about you."

"And I care about my brother," she retorted. 

Jon sighed. "We're not fighting again," he said in a defeated voice. "Everything goes wrong when we fight."

Arya stared at him for a few moments then clasped his tunic and Jon's eyes snapped up to hers. She pulled him closer in a heartbeat and captured his mouth in a breathless kiss. Jon mumbled something under his breath, which Arya could only identify as her name. His hands clutched her shoulders and he pushed her down on the bed, her mouth never leaving his. Arya took a moment to leave his lips to suck in air, but before she could fully accomplish that, Jon's tongue brushed across her lower lip. She bit it playfully, but his insistence soon resulted in his tongue entering her mouth. Arya responded swiftly, her small hands gripping his back, and pulling his body towards her own. Their tongues danced together in a rhythm, her back arching. Jon had her lower body pinned beneath his legs. He left her mouth to trail kisses down her collarbone, and Arya mewled at the sensation of him nipping her neck. 

"Marks," she whispered in a weak voice. Jon chuckled against her throat and pulled her closer. 'No, we have to stop.' But even in her head, it was but a faint whisper which melted away when Jon's hands sneaked under her tunic and touched her abdomen. His mouth found hers again, the contact of Jon's skin with her abdomen flaring sensations throughout her body. 

"Jon!" A voice called out and Arya broke the kiss in a gasp. Jon looked towards the door. 

"Jon, open the door!" Sansa's voice rang throughout the room. 

Jon cursed and got up, straightening his clothes. Arya chuckled and followed his movements, pulling down her tunic. She touched her neck and raised a brow at Jon. 

"Did you?" She whispered. 

Jon answered with a satisfied smirk and Arya widened her eyes, mumbling threats to him while trying to pull up the collar as further up as possible. She didn't even know where the marks were.

"Jon, are you there? I'm coming-"

"Wait! I'm just coming out," he replied hurriedly, walking to the door. Arya sat on the corner of the bed and watched him, praying Sansa wouldn't come in. 

"Jon, what took you so long?" She heard Sansa ask.

"I-I was changing. What is it?"

There was silence then Sansa's voice came again. 

"I can't find Arya."

"She must be somewhere hopping around," Jon suggested. "I haven't seen her."

Arya groaned softly. She was supposed to be talking to Jon, and she ended up kissing him. It's not like she didn't enjoy it, she really did, but they still weren't finished talking about Bran. 

She wanted to go and look for him. Jon had told her that he had probably went North after Winterfell's burning. The Starks weren't whole without him. He should've been the Lord of Winterfell. Rickon's too young. It should've been Bran. 

She heard the door close and looked up. Jon was standing with a frustrated look on his face.

"Your sister can be such annoying sometimes."

"What happened?"

"Never mind," he said. "She is looking for you."

Arya nodded and got up. "I must go then." She retrieved the dagger she had put away on the table last night. 

"Are you leaving me without a kiss?" Jon asked playfully. Arya rolled her eyes.

"Stop acting childish. It doesn't suit you. And anyway, I did kiss you. Fiend."

Jon laughed and his eyes softened. "Don't marry him."

"I won't," she assured him, and walked out of the room. Of course he had to bring Aegon into the conversation; Jon was so unpredictable. Arya reminded herself she had yet to reject Aegon. She hadn't been able to do it at their last meeting. Arya didn't not reject him because she didn't want to, but because she couldn't. Her training might fail with Jon, but with others she could tell things instantly. She knew Aegon liked her. Even loved her, she feared, and she knew he was a good man. She would almost be tempted to be his friend if not for his persistance to woo her. And for some reason Arya couldn't fathom, she went completely dumb the moment she wanted to tell him no. There was something stopping her. 'I don't want to break his heart,' she thought. But she had to do it. She cursed. Why couldn't Aegon be a selfish, unlikeable ass? She could've declined him instantly if he had been one. 

She entered her room and found Sansa sitting there, arms crossed under her chest.

"I searched for you everywhere! Where were you?" 

Arya closed the door behind her.

"I was just practising with my sword."

"So early?" Sansa asked skeptically, disbelief on her face. "The guard told me he didn't see you leave your room."

"Oh, Sansa. You don't know how easy it is to fool those guards." Arya winked. "Why were you looking for me?"

"Well, there is the feast today and-" she stopped.

"Sansa?" Arya asked questioningly, walking closer to her sister. Sansa looked shocked and pointed at her.

"What's that mark on your neck?"

'Fuck you, Jon.' 

Arya tried to think fast, and came up with the most obvious excuse.

"My horse nipped me," she replied.

"Doesn't look like it," Sansa replied.

"What does it look like?" Arya raised her brow.

Sansa narrowed her eyes at Arya. "I am your older sister, Arya. I know these things."

"I know you know, Sansa. And I know you are."

Sansa still looked as if she didn't believe her. Arya decided to change the subject. 

"Why were you here for again?"

"Prince Aegon and Rickon went hunting early morning. We have to finish most of the preparations for the feast before they return." Sansa smiled. "I could use some help."

"What can I do?" Arya went to the window and opened it, letting the winter breeze enter the room. "They left without Jon?" 

"They didn't want to disturb him and he looked tired- Wait. How do you know Jon's not gone? He hasn't seen you today, he told me."

Arya wanted to slap herself. 

"I saw him on my way here."

"But..." Sansa sighed and let it go. "You could help with the seating arrangements. Tell the men how to arrange the hall."

"I'm not good at these things, Sansa. But I will do my best."

"Thank you," Sansa said. "And I've told a maid to bring you a few dresses. Pick one from the lot."

Arya didn't even try to retort. Sansa sensed her unspoken words. 

"It's alright, Arya. It's just tonight."

Arya spent the afternoon helping Sansa in any way she could. Jon and Theon were also nearby. Arya noticed Jon glance at her many times, but she was careful not to let him know she was doing the same. 'Suffer for giving me those marks.' She decided to give him a piece of her mind next time they were alone. She had barely escaped Sansa's suspicions. She will think Arya was with a man. It would be alright, as long as she didn't suspect the man was Jon. Arya herself had just accepted her attraction towards Jon. It was too early for others to know. And they wouldn't understand anyway. 'We are still siblings in their eyes.'

Arya fortunately didn't meet Aegon even once that afternoon. When they returned, she was in the kitchens instructing the maids. As he was tired after the hunt, he went to rest. 

The evening seemed to arrive earlier than usual. She was ready by the next hour. The maid had helped her dress. She had chosen a high-necked dress. The maid had thrown peculiar glances at the marks on her neck, which Arya saw were quite visible. She sighed. 'The whole castle will think I fucked someone.' Not that she cared.

Her hair was let down by a ridiculous amount of hair pins. Her head almost hurt from the discomfort. 

Rickon entered her room when the maid went away. He grinned at her.

"You don't look that bad."

"Thank you, brother." 

"You hate doing this, don't you?"

"You are the only one who understands me." 

Rickon laughed. "Well I am here to escort My Lady to the hall."

"If you say that one more time-"

"You'll kill me?" He smirked. "I know, sister. Come, let's go."

The hall was already filled with people shouting amd cheering. Arya and Rickon followed Aegon who had Sansa on his arm. Aegon glanced at her and winked. Arya rolled her eyes and he smiled. Arya knew Jon was behind her, but she didn't turn and kept walking forward. Aegon sat down and beside him sat Rickon. Sansa sat to Rickon's side, and Arya was given a seat next to Aegon. She couldn't refuse as Sansa had already seated herself, so she reluctantly took her seat. Aegon flashed her a grin, and she kicked him under the table, and he laughed aloud.

"Fiesty," he told her and took a sip of his wine. 

Arya watched Jon sit next to her and she pulled her hand back from under his when he grasped it under the table. He looked at her questioningly and she pointed to her neck. Jon's mouth curved into a smile. He looked satisfied. 

"Prince Aegon," Sansa asked. "I hope you've had a good hunt today?"

"Yes, My Lady. It was very pleasant. We missed Jon." He turned to Jon. "You didn't wake up early today. I insisted we don't disturb your sleep."

"I am glad you didn't. I had the best sleep in weeks, and wasn't willing to get up."

"Not unusual," Sansa commented. She raised her cup, "To a good hunt."

"Well, the excitement of hunting is always doubled when the prey is unwilling to yield," Aegon said. 

"But you have to be careful," Arya said. "Some may not be willing to yield."

"Everyone yields to someone."

"Don't be so sure."

Arya noticed her siblings and Jon were silent. She knew all too well what Aegon was referring to. He wasn't entirely wrong. She would yield, not to him though.

Her hand reached Jon's under the table. She traced his palm with her finger, and he intertwined their fingers, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

Rickon stood up. "Let us begin the dancing," he commanded. He took Sansa's hand and led her down the steps to the middle of the hall. Aegon stood up and turned to Arya, 

"My Lady, may I have a dance?"

She tightened her grip on Jon's hand under the table. "No."

"Arya," Jon spoke before Aegon could. "One dance won't hurt. Go on." She frowned at him. He let go her hand as Aegon took her other one. She took his arm and walked away, glancing at Jon over her shoulder. He threw a smile at her. 

Aegon put one of his hands at her waist and the other held one of hers. Arya knew this dance. She had learnt it from one of the whores at Braavos, who was a highborn. She glanced at Sansa and Rickon as they danced amd moved around the room. Aegon twirled her easily, and she tried to step on his foot from time to time to stop this dance, but it didn't seem to affect him. 

"You look beautiful," he said. 

"Thank you," she replied. "When is this ending?"

"You don't like dancing?"

"I don't enjoy these sort of things."

He twirled her around again and this time came a little too close to her when they met again. 

"But you are good at this," he said. "You are a surprise, truly. I heard you fight, ride and know archery. And of course," he leaned close to her ear. "You kill."

Arya widened her eyes. 

"I know who killed the Kingslayer. Don't worry. It's a secret I've kept to myself."

"Wise," she said.

"Well, won't it be a pleasure to wed such a dangerous woman?"

Arya meant to retort but he twirled her once more and she found herself in Jon's arms instead. She looked around. Sansa was dancing with Aegon now and Rickon with another girl.

"I didn't know you were so talented."

"Not you, too," she sighed.

"Why? Did he seem to like your dancing too?" Jon pulled her closer and glided her along.

"He says he likes a lot of things about me."

"Does it please you?"

"Do you think it does?"

"I hope not."

Another round and the dance ended. Arya bowed to Jon, and went to stand on the side as new sets of couples began to dance. She saw Aegon looking at her from the other side of the room. 

"He will come here as soon as he can," she told Jon. He looked at his direction and whispered in her ear,

"Come with me."

They walked out of the castle and Arya breathed in the cold air.

"I love this."

"I know."

They stopped when they were some feet away from the castle. Jon looked at Arya.

"I know that dress must make you uncomfortable but you look breathtaking in it."

"Thank you, Lord Snow. You don't look bad either." Arya wrapped her arms around herself. "It's so cold tonight. I am glad I didn't wear the ones showing my shoulders." She looked at him. "I have you to thank for that."

"Your welcome."

Arya arched her brow.

"Sansa suspects me, stupid. Possibly the whole castle thinks I fucked someone."

"They should know better. You won't fuck anyone," he growled.

"You are different today. First, you didn't hesitate while kissing me like that, and now you're acting like a bloody husband."

He turned to her. "I can't help but want you. And I can finally say that out loud."

"Don't do that infront of others," she joked.

"Arya," he whispered and she looked up at him. He leaned down and captured her lips. The kiss was gentle and Arya leaned up on her toes to meet his mouth properly. The chilliness of the air and the heat of the kiss were mingling to form a strange feeling on her skin. She held his neck in her hands and pulled his head down. Jon's hand held her waist and one of them pulled at her hair. 

"Arya," he whispered hoarsely. Her hands wrapped themselves around his neck. "I-"

"Arya! What are you doing?" They turned to see Sansa staring at them angrily. Arya unwrapped her hands from around him. Sansa stormed angrily towards them.

"What were you two doing? Arya, come with me!" She took her arm.

"Sansa, leave my arm," Arya warned.

"You are coming with me inside!"

"Sans-"

"Calm," Jon whispered in Arya's ear. Sansa glared at both of them. She left Arya's arm but her eyes were still seething wih anger.

"Rickon's looking for you," she said.

"We're going," Jon said and took Arya's arm and pulled her along with him back towards the castle. Sansa was following behind.

"You have to remain calm," he told Arya. She knew that. Calm as still water.

"I don't like being shouted at like that."

"It's alright."

Arya looked at Sansa. 'It wasn't time yet. They won't understand.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello! Sorry for the delay. I hope you liked this chapter.  
> I took the idea of the dance from TVD 3x14 episode. Gods, I love Elena and Damon, and Klaus and Elijah were a added bonus. ;) [If I may, listen to 'Give Me Love' by Ed Sheeran while reading the dance scene. I dunno, it somehow fits.]  
> Thanks for reading. Please leave a review. I'll try to update soon. Cheers! ♡♡


	11. Chapter 11

Jon

He held Arya's hand and walked with her towards the castle. Sansa walked ahead of them, occasionally turning and frowning at them. The second time she did so, her eyes fell on their entwined fingers and her eyes turned sad. But only briefly, before the anger seemed to cloud her eyes again, and she turned around, picking up the pace of her walking. 

"Jon?" 

He looked down and saw Arya looking up at him, with a melancholy smile. Her hair had flakes of snow in it, and the cold had made her skin look amazingly pale, and her cheeks had reddened. He wanted to claim her lips and deepen that blush. Gods, she looked so breathtaking. This was the same Arya who had sobbed in his arms the first time Sansa had called her horseface, and had clung to him the entire afternoon, refusing to see anyone but him. He had thought of her as beautiful then, as he thinks now.

Jon stopped. Sansa had already entered the castle, and Jon and Arya were just outside it. He ran his knuckles down her jaw and moving towards her lips, traced the lower one with his thumb. When he pulled his hand away, Arya licked her lip. 

"Stop doing that," Jon teased, though his voice sounder too rough to his ears. "Or I will kiss you right now and someone will see and things will get worse."

"I don't care about anyone," she said.

He almost leaned in when he heard Sansa clear her throat. 

"Come inside,"she commanded.

Jon feared Arya would retort and things would turn ugly. He meant to stop her, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she gripped his hand tight and tugged it. He understood, and they walked inside, passing Sansa who glared at Jon. 

The number of people in the hall had decreased. Aegon was jovially drinking with Rickon; both of them looking younger than they really were. Jon felt Arya's hand slide from his and looked at her. She winked, and snatched the wineskin from Theon's hand and gulped the whole of it down her throat. Sansa gasped in horror and Arya's face turned into one of immense satisfaction. Jon shook his heard. She was doing this to annoy her sister. 

When she meant to take another one, Jon grabbed both of her arms, pulling her away to one of the benches. She didn't make any objection and sat down, throwing a smirk at her sister. 

Jon wan't surprised Sansa hadn't told anyone of what she saw. She wasn't someone who'd make a display of such things infront of so many people. 

"You should not test her temper," he said. 

Arya shrugged. She rested her chin on her arm and after a few moments looked at him.

"If I kiss you right here, right now, infront of all these people, would you care about what they'll think?" She asked.

"Yes," Jon said. When Arya's brows frowned in disappointment, Jon laughed lightly and leaned close to her ear. "All the men here will see what an amazing kisser you are. We can't have them dwelling too much on your lips."

Arya shoved him in the chest.

"I won't care, Arya. You know I won't," he said, this time seriously. He glanced around the room. Most of the women had left. 

"Do you think Sansa will tell Rickon?" Arya asked.

"I don't know."

"They won't understand," she whispered.

Jon took her hand in his. "It took us so long to accept this. I won't be surprised if they do. But I am not letting anyone take you away from me." His grip tightened.

"Don't worry." She smirked. "I am not planning on going anywhere either." 

He noticed the man beside him looking at their hands which were now entwined. Jon gave the man a look, and he took the warning, looking away and busying himself with his drink. 

"Scare away," Arya muttered.

"Did you wan-" Jon stopped short of his words when he saw Theon push past the people and hurrying towards them.

"What?" Arya asked and turned to the direction Jon was looking. Theon rushed and put his hand on Jon's shoulder.

"You need to come with me," his breathing was heavy. He was a little drunk and tried his best to stand straight and talk properly.

"What is it?" Arya asked before Jon could.

Theon looked at Arya and straightened. "The prisoner has escaped."

Arya was up in a heartbeat and gripped Theon by the shoulder.

"Jaqen?"

"The Faceless Man, yes," Theon said. Jon stood up too. There were three guards behind Theon. 

"One's enough. We have our weapons. Let's go. You two," he pointed to two of the guards. "Stay here. Don't mention this to anyone now. We don't want the Prince to know there is a trained assassin on loose. If the Prince retires, only then you tell Rickon."

The guard nodded. 

"I'll bring Needle," Arya said, but Jon gripped her arm.

"You're not coming," he said.

"What?" Arya exclaimed in suprise. "Don't be stupid, Jon."

"He tried to kill you, Arya. I am not letting you go near him."

"You don't decide what I do," she said in an angry voice. 

Jon groaned in frustration. 

"Will you both stop? This is not the bloody time!" Theon shouted. 

"I am getting Needle from my room," Arya said.

"Let one of the guards get it," Jon suggested.

"I am not letting anyone touch it. I am getting it myself." 

Jon opened his mouth to protest but she was already on her way to her room. Jon saw Sansa throw a curious look at her sister, then her eyes fell on Jon and Theon. Jon thought she was going to get up and come to them, but Rickon whispered something in her ear, and she smiled, turning her attention to him and Aegon and Lady Wylla Manderly, who was sitting beside Sansa.

"How did this happen?" Jon asked. 

He was there in the afternoon, Milord, when we took water for him," one of the guards replied. "But when we passed his cell some time ago, he wasn't there."

"There is risk, Snow. That man's a bloody assassin. The Prince is not safe."

"I am more worried about Arya," Jon said. There was little Arya trusted anymore. But she had trusted that man, and he had tried to kill her. 'If any harm comes to her...' the thought made him shiver. Gods knew how he'd survived when she was unconscious. 

"She'll be fine," Theon assured him, but Jon knew that was only what they wished. 

Arya came back minutes later. She wore a cloak around her, and Jon noticed she had Needle hidden beneath it. She had pulled her hair to her side in a messy braid. Of course it was the not the time for that, but Jon still found himself staring at her. She looked beautiful in everything.

Jon looked at Sansa again. It was best not to let anyone else know about the situation. The Prince would be oblivious if the people accompanying him were. Thankfully, Sansa was busy talking to some women. 

"Let's go," Arya said. 

Arya was deliberately stepping on all of his plans to keep her safe. She was walking ahead of them, ignoring his and Theon's request she stand behind the guards. Jon sent one of the guards with Theon back to the cells to check again if the fugitive was hiding somewhere there. They themselves walked towards the Godswood, when Arya stopped.

"One of you need to go look in the crypts," she told Jon and the guard. Jon shook his head in surprise.

"We are staying here together."

"No, Jon. Think clearly, there are already so many places we haven't looked. You go look in the crypts."

"I am not leaving you." Arya scowled. Jon turned to the guard.

"You stay here, we'll go." 

Arya rolled her eyes and again stepped to walk ahead, but Jon wouldn't let that happen this time.

"You are walking by my side, not ahead of me." He added before she could speak, "Please, Arya."

She hesitatingly agreed, but it was enough for him. 

They entered the crypts and Jon took a burning candle from one of the carvings. 

"He could be anywhere," Jon said.

"We prefer shadows. Hides us perfectly," Arya said, voice stiff.

"You are not one of them anymore," Jon replied.

Arya suddenly wound her arm around him, and turned on her heels. Jon didn't even have the time to process what was happening, before she took a dagger out of nowhere and flung it to her right. The dagger hit the stone and fell down with a sound that echoed through the crypts. Jon saw the shadow move. He gripped his sword and steadied himself.

"Show yourself," he roared.

The shadow turned to a silhouette of a man. Jon recognized the face and the hair. Jaqen H'ghar. He looked weaker, but there was a disturbing smile on his face. Jon instinctively pulled Arya closer, though he didn't know why.

"A girl looks different," he said, focusing his eyes on Arya.

"What do you want?" Arya glared.

"A man came to take a life. A man failed."

"You are not getting near her!" Jon shouted. 

"One life for another," he said.

"I am not letting you hurt my family," Arya said.

"Not your family, lovely girl. But someone you know. You broke your vows, and you refused your gift. There are consequences."

"Jaqen, please," Arya's voice softened. Jon heard a familiarity in her voice. "You'd never hurt me."

"Jaqen H'ghar is dead," the man declared. He moved and Jon braced himself, but there was no attack. 

"Valar Morghulis. You know it better than anyone, Arya Stark," he said. Jon's candle and every torch in the crypts were suddenly blown out by a cold rush of air. Jon gripped Arya's waist. He could see nothing in the darkness, and he was panicking. He heard everything go still. There was no sound of anything but his rapid breathing. Not even... 

"Arya!" He called out. There was no sound of her breathing! His arm was still around her, but there was no breathing.

"Arya!" 

"Ssh, I'm right here," she whispered, and Jon felt her arms wrap around his neck. 

"He's gone," she mumbled into his chest. 'She's afraid...'

"He'll come back for someone. One life for another. He'll kill-"

"Stop." He held her tight. "Not now." 

"I should've killed him."

"I won't let him hurt you. I swear." 

"It's not me I'm scared about."

He heard voices in the distance and pressed a kiss on her neck. The voices came closer, and light started to illuminate the place. Jon looked at Arya who was holding him tightly. 

"Jon! Arya!" Rickon's voice echoed. He came into view, Sansa beside him. Jon and Arya left each other's arms.

"Are you alright?" Rickon asked. "Theon told us you came here looking for the prisoner and we saw the torches blown out."

"He escaped," Arya said.

There was silence before Jon spoke,

"Has Aegon retired for the night?"

"Yes. A guard told me about the escape as soon as the Prince went to his chambers. Don't worry, he doesn't know. Things will get fucked up if he does."

"Rickon." Sansa sighed. She turned to Jon and Arya with a scrutinizing gaze. "You should have brought someone with you. You two, alone in the dark. Who knows what could've happened."

Jon felt his anger rise at the comment. He understood what Sansa really meant. Even now, she was more interested in the two of them being together, than by the fact that her sister was in apparent danger. Arya seemed to mirror his emotions. She suddenly intertwined their fingers. 

"Nothing can hurt me when I am with him."

Sansa's lips pursed in anger. Rickon looked puzzled too. He looked at their joined hands and frowned. 

"I think it's time we return to the castle," Arya suggested.

"Yes," Rickon replied. "Come."

They walked out and Jon started to feel nervous. Sansa knew, and Rickon was curious from the looks of it. He said he wouldn't care, and really he wouldn't. But these two were family, and in the beginning they would surely object their relationship. All the doubts he had, they would have too. It was only a matter of time before Sansa tells Rickon.

Then there was the threat on his family. Arya feared Jaqen H'ghar, or at least his intentions, and it gave Jon enough reason to be cautious. Arya had told him he was her mentor. He had seen how dangerous Arya had become, and this man was supposed to be her superior in eveything.

The Gods had kept her away from him for six years, and then they found their way back to each other. This time, he vowed, I won't let her go. He didn't know what he'd do without her. He had loved her when they were children. And now he loves her even more. It made him selfish, this need to be with her. But he was far from being ashamed of it.

They retired to their chambers after entering the hall. Jon bid a formal goodnight to everyone. He tried to talk to Arya but Sansa was already taking her arm and leading her away. Arya glanced over her shoulder at Jon and gave him a reassuring smile. Jon was surprised she had let herself be taken away like that, but of course, no one truly knew what Arya thinks about doing until she does it. Not even him.

"I'll double the guards outside each of our chambers and outside the castle," Rickon said. "Let this night be over. We can talk about this properly tomorrow."

Jon nodded.

"The Prince already has two of the Kingsguard with him. He is well protected," he added. Rickon looked at Jon and seemed to study him. "Is there something you wish to tell me, Jon? Is there something I need to know?"

"No, Rickon. There's nothing," he said. "I'll see you in the morning."

Rickon smiled and went one way while Jon went the other. He entered his room and immediately started pulling his clothes off, and then put on a loose tunic and breeches. He went under the covers, refusing to think about anything else right now. He needed sleep, lots of it. 

0-0-0-0

Jon opened his eyes slowly and felt something move beside him. 

"What time is it?" He asked sleepily.

"Does it matter?"

"No. Come here," he smiled and turned to his side, inching closer to her. Arya turned too, and came forward, until their faces were but a few inches away. He held out his hand and stroked her cheek.

"Why are you awake so late?" He asked.

"Maybe I missed you beside me," she teased. 

"I hope you did."

She rolled her eyes and they twinkled with mirth. 

"What did Sansa say?" Jon asked.

"Nothing. She just looked at me like I had done something horrible, and went to her room. Let her sleep on it. Maybe her senses will be awakened tomorrow." Her eyes softened. "I didn't have nightmares last night. Maybe that's the real reason I missed your bed."

"Oh?" Jon pulled her closer in one tug. One of her legs went over his, and she gasped. "So you didn't want this?"

"What?" She feigned innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about, My Lord."

Jon grinned. His hands found their way to her back and he pulled her again. This time his chest hit hers.

"Being this close to me," he teased, trying to keep his voice even. "Do you not want this, My Lady?"

"Jo-" 

He broke her words with a kiss, slamming his mouth against hers. She responded just as eagerly, wrapping her leg around his thigh, trying to pull him closer. Jon entered his tongue in her mouth, tasting her, while one of his hands pushed her hair away from her face and the other rested at her hips. Arya ran her hand through his hair, tugging occasionally.

At one point, Jon unknowingly grabbed Arya's hips and pulled them towards his own. As soon the contact was made, a rush of pleasure racked every part of his body. He heard Arya moan, and she bit her lip. Arya pulled away, her pupils dilated, staring at him. His eyes dropped to her lips which were swollen and she was taking deep breaths, her arms still resting on his body. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mea-"

Arya attacked his lips with such force his eyes widened and he fell back onto the bed, with Arya now on top of him. He wanted to protest, but seven hells, when she straddled him and their tongues met, everything else was forgotten but the taste of her lips and the smell of her hair, mingled with the sounds of her rapid breathing and both of their racing hearts. 

Jon sat up and settled Arya on his lap, her legs still straddling him. He took hold of her waist and kissed her neck, inching downwards, until his lips were just above her breasts. He stopped and looked up at her. Arya smiled and it made his heart ache. She leaned down and kissed him again, stroking his hair. Jon left her lips and treaded down again. Her shift had fallen off one shoulder, revealing pale skin. Jon felt for the buttons at her back, and loosened a few. Arya shrugged the shift off and it fell off her shoulders completely, revealing her breasts.

Jon had never thought himself as lucky as he did now. Arya was over him, looking down at him, baring herself to him. He kissed the valley between her breasts lightly, and she sighed. The sound was sweeter than any music or any song. Jon kissed one breast, then the other, as Arya breathed rapidly. Her face was flushed and her skin was tinted pink. 

Jon dropped kisses on her breasts. There was no rush. His tongue replaced his lips, and Arya threw her head back. He immediately took a nipple in his mouth and sucked on it. Arya's gasps turned to moans as he repeated the movement with the other nipple. Jon's hips pushed into hers.

The sounds Arya made fuelled his desire. He thrusted his hips up again and again, his lips busy at her breasts. He was hard, and knew Arya could feel it too through all the clothes. He felt her push her hips down against him. Arya panted and kissed him hard on the mouth. 

Their hips grounded against each other, and Jon felt Arya grow tense. She looked at him with pleading eyes, mouth agape. He knew what she wanted. 

Jon nibbled down her neck, the skin soft and warm. Arya dug her fingers into his hair, her back arching and she let out what sounded like a gasp and a moan at the same time.

She dropped her head on his shoulder, panting. Jon was glad to give her relief, but he was still hard. Still he didn't push. He needed her to take time. Think.

He wasn't ignoring the guilt at the back of his mind when the movements stopped and both of them tried to even their breathing. She was sixteen, she was his cousin. She was Arya. 

But who had the power to push away the woman he loved when she was kissing him like that? Who had the courage to tell her no, and pull away. Certainly, not Jon. And absolutely not when it came to Arya. She makes him powerless, she always did.

"Thank you," she whispered, as she lay against his chest. "I know you wanted to stop, but you didn't."

"You didn't want me do." It was more of a question than a statement.

"No." 

Jon kissed down her neck again, back to her lips. "I love you," he whispered.

Arya smiled and caressed his cheek. "I know."

He wanted her to say it back. But she was already closing her eyes and snuggling closer. Jon wrapped his arms around her and sighed. 

Ned Stark would have been ashamed of him. He would have been disappointed in Jon. He remembered how for this girl, he had almost broke every vow of the Night's Watch. For this girl, he had almost died. But he survived. Maybe just to get to her. 

To get to the only one person in the world he will break all his vows for. The one for whom he will die without the blink of an eye. He knew that even before he started loving her this way. 

Ned Stark was his Uncle. He was Arya's Father.

He looked at Arya, who had closed her eyes. If she didn't regret it, why should he? He was doing what always came so naturally to him: loving Arya. Nothing had ever felt more easy or effortless. 

Nothing had ever felt so wrong, yet so right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am changing the rating to M. For obvious reasons.  
> Tell me what you think. ♡♡


	12. Chapter 12

Arya

"You disappeared last night," Aegon said, as he walked to her side. Arya's grip loosened on the curtain as she shrugged. 

"I told you, I don't like dancing."

"I remember," Aegon mused. He looked outside for some time before turning to her, "Why don't you like me?"

Arya was surprised at his question. "It's not like that." She sighed.

"Then you do like me?" 

'Stupid.'

"Not enough to marry you." Arya stated. "Why must you insist?" 

"Because..." Aegon's voice was softer, "I haven't stopped thinking of you since the day I saw you. I thought I'd get over it, but I never did. Years have passed and I still see you in my dreams." He turned to her, and Arya saw his eyes turn lighter, as a smile graced his lips. He was probably the most handsome man Arya had ever seen then, but she had never cared for handsome. 

And lilac wasn't her color, only grey was.

"That doesn't mean you love me," she said. "You're just-" she struggled to find the right word.

"Smitten? I don't think so." His hand went forward to touch her but she warned him with a glare. Aegon chuckled. "I am not leaving until I convince you."

"That will never happen."

Arya had took it upon herself to convince Aegon to leave Winterfell. Somehow, her instincts warned her that Jaqen would try to harm him. Of course he could mean others. Someone in her family, but Aegon was the Prince of Westeros, and he needed to be safe. Furthermore, if he is harmed in Winterfell, it would not be lightly taken by the Queen.

She could keep her family safe. They already were cautious. But Aegon couldn't know. 

"I can try." He smirked. 

Arya straightened to her full height and turned to him with a cold stare. "I don't want to marry you, Aegon. How many times shall I say it before you understand?"

His own eyes turned hard, and they held determination. "I love you."

"I don't!"

"You can," he said.

"No, I can't!" She shook her head frustatingly. "You are chasing after a lost cause."

"I know one thing, Arya. I am not giving up. I love you too much for that." 

"You don't love me!" She shouted, facing him. "You just think you do!"

"Arya, you-"

The door creaked and both of then turned. Arya saw a servant enter.

"My Lady, Arya, Lady Sansa has asked for you."

Arya nodded to him, but was reluctant to go. She knew what Sansa was going to say to her. And she didn't want to stay either to listen to Aegon's declarations of love. 'How will I convince this man of the truth?' He only seemed more determined than before. As much experience Arya has had with situations, romantic endeavours had always left her clueless. She had _never_ , to be precise, been attracted to any man before Jon. There was still a part of her that thought of these things as silly, even though she had very much accepted her feelings for Jon. 

"Unwilling to leave me?" Aegon asked, arching his brow.

Arya threw her head back and groaned, leaving the room with loud and hurried steps, without even bidding him goodbye. She heard Aegon's laugh behind her.

'I might have to use my knives after all.'

Sansa was brushing her hair when Arya knocked on her door, although it was open. Sansa muttered a small 'come in' and continued her brushing.

Sansa's hair had grown longer than Arya remembered. Maybe she never really paid attention until now. It had straightened, and was more lustrous than before. Arya remembered her Mother brushing her hair once. She had come running inside breathless and dirty, her own tresses tangled with mud in them. Her Mother had been in a good mood that day. She had shook her head smiling, and spent the next half an hour combing Arya's hair, carefully braiding it. But Arya had managed to dirty it again by the evening, and that time, there had been scolding involved.

Even now, Arya barely spent time with her hair. Most of the time, she just combed her fingers through them. And of course, Jon always kept messing it. A smile came unbidden to her lips.

"What's so amusing?" Sansa asked over her shoulder.

Arya shook her head.

"Added it to the list of things you won't tell me then?"

Arya shot her a hard look. "I choose what things I tell others."

"Other?" Sansa threw the brush on the floor and turned to face her. Arya noticed the glaze in her eyes. "Is that what I am to you, Arya? Someone who was once your sister?"

"You're still my sister," Arya said. She tried to make it sound convincing, but it came out as an emotionless whisper. Of course she was still her sister, as much as Rickon was her brother. They were as much as siblings as they'd been when they were younger. But there was a line between them, a line Arya had crossed with Jon, but she suspected she'd ever be able to with the other two. 

It wasn't their fault, as much as it wasn't hers. But a voice in her heart, no matter how small at times, had always assured her of one thing all these years. 

'Jon won't judge me.' 

Jon had loved her ever since she could remember being loved. He had been the one to scrap the dirt off her arms, and Arya didn't remember one occasion when he had told her she wasn't supposed to get dirty. He never ridiculed her because of the breeches she wore, or the way she laughed or talked. Yes, they were children then, but those acts had made her believe that Jon was the only person in the world she could count on. And he didn't prove her wrong.

But the same couldn't be said of Sansa and Rickon. The former had always mocked her and laughed at her; Rickon was just a little boy then. How could she open up to them, when she was almost sure they wouldn't understand.

'They have went through a lot, too. But they haven't killed. And surely, they hadn't wanted to.'

"Then why do you keep things from me?" Sansa asked, her voice choking.

"This is about Jon."

"Not just about Jon!" Sansa brushed a tear away. "I can feel how guarded you are with me, with everyone. Have you still not forgiven me for what I did in the past, when we were children? I am sorry, Arya. But I was just a silly girl, then."

"Sansa." Arya sighed. "I am not wroth, I swear."

Sansa kept silent for a few moments, then pulled herself to her feet. She sniffed.

"Are you sleeping with Jon?" 

"No," Arya said. 'Not yet.'

"You know it's wrong," Sansa said. Arya heard the twinge of disgust in her voice, and something inside her flared.

"I have done nothing wrong. I am not ashamed of kissing Jon, and I don't think I'll be ashamed if I bed him."

"Arya!" 

Arya was surprised at how quickly her sister's tears had turned to anger. It was almost as if she hadn't been upset at all. Arya tried her best, but her instincts and brain made her question Sansa's motives. Leaving the Faceless Men hadn't changed much of her habits. 'I am suspecting my own sister.'

"Have you told Rickon?" 

"I will." Sansa had turned her back on her. "You will be ruined if you let this go on. You should stop yourselves before it's too late."

"I am already ruined," she almost spat the last word, "in ways you cannot possibly imagine. Loving Jon isn't one of them."

"You don't understand. House Stark will be disgraced-"

"House Stark has been ruined long ago. You think we're Lords and Ladies, but we're not. We're just monsters trying to mend a broken hell. I love Winterfell as much as you do. But I don't care about people, Sansa. People aren't there to hold me during nightmares. People aren't there to help me forget the horrors of the past. It's Jon. If you'd think I care for anyone more than I care for him, you don't know me at all."

She knew the words hit badly. 'Anyone.' It meant no one, and that included Sansa herself. 

Sansa frowned at her. "He's your brother."

"No, he's not. He is a Targaryen, not a Stark."

"Actually, Arya," Sansa's smile was mocking. Her lips curled in the way they used to when she had made fun of her all those years ago with Jeyne Poole. "He's still technically a bastard."

"Go to hell, Sansa."

Arya left the room fuming with barely concealed rage. Gods know she'd have done a lot more than just curse her if she stayed inside one more second. 'I thought I knew her.' 

Why had she cried if she just needed to rant about how inappropriate they were? Why the self-pity? If Arya had looked carefully, she might've seen whether she was lying or if she was really sad. But she hadn't, because she wasn't a Faceless Man anymore. She thought she didn't need to read deeper into Sansa's eyes. She thought Sansa wasn't capable of tricking anyone.

'I thought wrong.' 

It shocked her and disappointed her at the same time how Sansa still cared about what other people thought. After living like a puppet for years, has she still not realised? In the end, every man was for himself. Arya had accepted that long ago, maybe even before going to Braavos.

That night, as she entered Jon's room, she found him sitting on the bed. She made her way to him, and saw him relax. Arya positioned herself in his lap, his chest to her back. Jon wrapped his arms around her tightly, clutching her waist almost painfully. His head rested atop hers, his lips touching her hair. Her legs were settled between his.

"What is it?" She asked. She could sense he was worried about something.

"I don't want to lose you." His voice was strained. She turned in his arms and looked into his eyes that had turned sad. She leaned up to kiss him lightly on the lips.

"I am not going anywhere," she assured him. 

He turned her around to her earlier position.

"Sansa told Rickon," he said.

Arya sighed. She knew it would happen sooner or later.

"I don't want to lose you," he said, again.

"No one can keep us apart."

Jon's body slumped against her back, then he started stroking the side of her stomach with his fingers. He touched it lightly, although he knew the wound was healed. Arya leaned back, closing her eyes.

"Have you ever wanted to change your name to Targaryen?" Arya asked suddenly.

"No," Jon said slowly. "Although I had considered changing it to Stark."

"Why didn't you then?"

She felt him shrug. "I just didn't."

"Did you do it for me?"

Jon turned her around, this time her entire body faced him. He kissed the side of her face, lingering on the skin with his lips. 

"I wanted to make you feel as if nothing had changed, that we were the same people. Changing my name would've changed that."

"We are not the same. I know I'm not."

"You are to me," he said smiling, and kissed the top of her head. Arya placed her hands on both sides of his face. 

"Has Rickon said anything to you?" She asked.

"He asked me if it was true. He was hoping Sansa was mistaken."

"You said yes."

"Of course, I did," 

Arya felt as if he was keeping something from her, but she didn't press. If it was anything about him and her, or their family, she'd find out eventually.

"Sansa doesn't want to understand, and I doubt Rickon would too," she said.

"He's just a boy," Jon defended.

"Sansa's not," Arya shot back. 

"It'll take time, but they'll understand."

"I don't care even if they don't."

Jon chuckled. Arya saw him smile smugly, then he pulled her on top of him, lying back on the bed. She rolled her eyes and kissed him, stroking the back of his neck, as his smile went wider. Her fingers held on to his tunic, as they occasionally brushed his chest. He rolled them over so he was top of her, and kissed his way down her neck, his lips tingling her skin in their wake. A soft moan left her lips and Jon sucked on her neck. His hands went around her waist as he hoisted her up using his arms and pressed kisses to her stomach. 

"Jon," she whispered. Her hand gripped his hair as he trailed kisses up her chest to her mouth. She gazed into his eyes. 

"Whatever they say, I regret nothing," he said. 

She smiled and kissed him passionately, wrapping her legs around his waist.

"Neither do I."

*******

_A cold wind blew, making her shiver as the red leaves fell down all around her. Arya's eyes fell on the shadows in the distance._

_'Ghost.'_

_She called his name, and the direwolf strodded closer with careful steps, which kept on increasing as he approached._

_"Ghost," she said again, as her hand touched his face lightly, and he nipped her palm. Nymeria used to do that, she remembered. His eyes, red as blood, looked into her own, and she felt a little uneasy. Suddenly, he howled, throwing his head back, making Arya snatch her hand away quickly. The cry pierced through the Godswood, cutting through the fog._

_The winds seemed to form a word in her ears._

_'Nymeria.'_

_She ran forward, not exactly registering why. Memories, all of her time with Nymeria, came back to her mind._

_When she stopped running, her surroundings had changed. She was inside the castle now, she could tell. Arya looked down at her hands, which were covered in blood. A fear loomed inside her._

_"Lovely girl." The whisper was faint._

_She looked infront of her and saw him. 'Jaqen.'_

_"I won't let you hurt them," she shouted, but there was fear in her voice._

_"Not them, lovely girl. Just one. You should be happy. After all, you didn't want to die."_

_"No!" She yelled again. "Don't hurt them." Her shouting turned to pleading, and her voice cracked. "Please don't. Not because of me."_

_"I won't hurt them." He turned around and started walking away, but not before looking over his shoulder one last time, and smiling. A smile that made Arya want to scream the air out of her lungs. "You will."_

*******

She entered the solar and closed the door behind her. Her eyes quickly found Jon's, who threw her a small smile. Arya sat beside Rickon, who just nodded at her. Sansa was there too, but Arya avoided her eyes. A repeat of yesterday's episode was not something she looked forward to, and she knew it _would_ come to pass if Sansa made those comments again.

"Why are we here?" Arya broke the silence.

"Arya," Rickon hesitated, "Sansa told me about..."

"Me and Jon? She told you about me and Jon?" 

"She did," he said.

"I love Arya." She heard Jon's voice, and felt more confident. "I love her."

"And I love him," she added. 

"This is..." Rickon looked at them. "This is wrong, and you're brother and sister."

"We're cousins!" Arya exclaimed loudly. Jon shook his head lightly at her, so she lowered her voice. "Cousins love each other, it's not that unusual."

"But you were raised as siblings, Arya!" She finally heard Sansa. "We all were. Do you even wonder what Father would've said?"

"Father's dead." The words left her mouth before she could stop them. The room went silent. 

"How dare you say that?" Sansa muttered angrily.

"Because I was there, Sansa. When Ilyn Payne beheaded him, I heard the people go silent." She clenched her teeth. "You should know. Weren't you there, too? Weren't you standing by Joffrey's side? Weren't you the one who had convinced him to confess to something he hadn't done?" She spat.

Sansa's mouth turned to one of horror. 'What have I done?' Arya regretted her words instantly, but she couldn't take them back now. Sansa rushed pass her, and Arya could hear her hushed sobs. She took a deep breath and looked at Jon, who stood there lowering his eyes to the floor. 

'You don't want to look at me.'

"Rick-" she began but he stopped her halfway.

"Someone must convince Prince Aegon you will not marry him. I doubt it would be easy, but it must be done. And it is also safe for him to be away from Winterfell at the moment. We'll talk about this... some other time."

He left without another word. 'I'm sorry.' 

She heard Jon's footsteps, and closed her eyes. She was afraid he'd leave too, but the sound stopped near her. She felt arms engulf her from behind, one around her waist, the other around her neck.

"I'm sorry," he whispered near her ear. "I'm sorry for not being there. I am sorry you had to go through that. But Arya, she's hurt too." 

"I didn't want to," Arya confessed. "I don't know why I did."

"You should talk to her," he said.

"I will." She nodded. 

"I love you," he said, kissing her temple. "You'll never have to hurt again, I swear."

"I love you, Jon." The words felt right. "I love you."

He kissed her head again. 

'I'm sorry.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for this to be this gloomy, I swear. But one thing led to another, and here we are. Things will get better, I promise.  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. And sorry for the late update. :)  
> Don't forget to comment, please. xoxo


	13. Chapter 13

Jon

The air was chillier than usual; the wind biting his skin even through the furs around him. He saw that the Prince's men were sparring in the grounds with great difficulty. The Southern men were not used to the harsh cold of the North. The walls of the castle might provide enough warmth but outside, the men felt the chill to their bones, their teeth clattering and their faces as pale as the snow beneath their shoes. 

"Jon," Aegon greeted him, throwing him a smile that reminded him of Robb, the brother he once had. 

"Your Highness." He bowed slightly, and a frown marred Aegon's features. 

"You still don't call me by my name," he said. 

Jon wanted to, truly, but he couldn't bring himself to be close to his half-brother. Aegon was a good man, and Jon knew that if he tried they could become good friends again. He remembered when they'd been no less than brothers during the war. 

But things weren't so easy. They had to fight together during the war against the Others because there was no other way. Now though, he couldn't help the jealousy that rushed through his veins everytime he looked at Aegon. He still didn't know what had happened between Arya and this man; how they had met. Aegon was a subject seldom mentioned between them, as most of the time they ended up arguing after that. He wanted to know why this man claimed to love her. 

There was also the truth that Aegon was much, much more worthy of Arya than him. Eddard Stark's or Rhaegar Targaryen's, he was still a bastard. Aegon was a Prince, though, and Arya could become Queen someday. He knew she'd punch him bloody if he ever said that in front of her, but he couldn't shake off the truth that Aegon could keep her more happy than him. 

"I want to ask you something, Jon," Aegon broke the silence. It wasn't a question so Jon didn't answer. Aegon continued, 

"I know my aunt has proposed this before, and you have declined her, but I want to ask you again. Would you like to be legitimized, Jon, and come to King's Landing?" 

Jon's eyes narrowed and he tried not to sound annoyed. 

"I have no wish to go to King's Landing, Your Highness. This is my home." 

Aegon looked at him nervously. 

"When I marry, I will be taking my seat at Dragonstone. I want you to stay at King's Landing and give our aunt some company. She'll need family with her." 

"You are not wrong, but I've alread-" 

"I understand," Aegon said, raising his hand. "I know you don't want it, and it wasn't my choice to annoy you with this. Your cousins suggested it." 

"My cousins?" Jon asked, shocked. 

"Lord Rickon and Lady Sansa. They said you care for Winterfell, but you're a Targaryen, and you're supposed to be beside the Queen. I agree with them." He placed a hand on his shoulder. "They wish the best for you, as do I and our aunt. You're not supposed to bear the shame of being a bastard when you can have a title for yourself. Daenerys will proclaim you the next in line for the Throne after me. But I will not pressure you, it is perfectly your choice. Just know that we all care for you, and just think about it without saying no immediately."

'They want me away from here,' he realized, 'away from Arya.' 

He knew Aegon and his aunt's intentions were good, but not his cousins'. They wanted him to go to King's Landing; they didn't want for him to stay with Arya. 

'She was right. They don't understand.' 

He nodded to Aegon, his words stuck in his throat. The Prince smiled and went off the grounds to practice, while Jon's anger rose. How could they try to keep him away from her? He was finally thinking they were accepting him as family. This wasn't family; he understood they didn't like what was going on between him and Arya, but that didn't justify what they were trying to do. They should know better than that; he won't be parted from her. It was physically painful for him to even think about it. Not watching her for one day would drive him mad. There was nothing he needed more than he needed her beside him. 

Sansa caught him in the hallway. The way her lips thinned into a line when she saw him made Jon wonder if Sansa ever thought of him as family. When they were children, she had followed her mother's footsteps in trying to always remind him he was nothing more than a bastard; a crack in the glass that was House Stark. There was a time when he'd wanted her to think of him as her brother, just like his other siblings did. But later he had grown immune to her ignorance as to her mother's bitter words. 

Arya and Sansa were so different, and it was hard to understand the reasons behind their amazingly contrasting personalities. Where one was a spitfire, wild, and striking in every sense of the word, the other was gentle and seemed calm. But he knew Sansa was more clever than she let on. She was more of a court lady, more of a politician, and more of a manipulator. Sansa was everything Arya wasn't, but he also knew Sansa wouldn't have been able to go through half of what Arya went through. There was too much of a Lady in her for her to survive alone outside castle walls. 

'Have I always loved her so?' He wondered, thinking of Arya. Maybe the thought of them loving each other this way would have been disturbing when they were young, but now he realized he couldn't possibly have loved her any other way. This love had taken root inside of them since the first time he had held her in his arms and she had smiled at him. It took only courage on both their sides to realize what this love truly meant to them, and that it mattered to them above anything else in the world. 

Sansa's voice cut through his thoughts, bringing him back to reality. 

"I presume the Prince has spoken to you?" 

"He has," Jon replied, trying his best to appear indifferent. 

"And what have you answered him?" 

"What he already knows." 

The silence grew and he decided to walk on, but she spoke again, 

"You are putting too much at stake, Jon. Have you thought what the other Houses will say? We are no Lannisters, and you may be a Targaryen, but Arya is not. Aegon is a good match for her; the best. You are ruining her chances at happiness." 

Jon's eyes turned cold. 

"If you cared about her happiness, you wouldn't try to keep us apart. I will _not_ be parted from her, Sansa." 

He walked past her, anger surging through his veins faster than he had ever felt. 

"Rickon wants you gone! I want you gone! You are ruining our sister's life. You'll destroy her honour, her reputation. You'll destroy her!" 

Jon stopped dead in his tracks, and without turning tried to speak calmly. 

"Rickon may believe what you tell him, but he is the Lord of Winterfell now. He will make his own decisions; whether he wants me here or not, he must say it to me himself." 

"You are family, Jon. This will not end well." Her voice was softer. 

Jon sighed. "I love her, Sansa. There is nothing more to say." 

He left her without another word. 

It wasn't long before he found himself outside Arya's chambers. Jon wouldn't tell her what happened. If he did, she'll be furious and the tension between her and Sansa would only grow. And he didn't want to make her upset, not over something that was never going to happen. 

"Come on in," he heard her just when he was about to knock. "Did you bring the-" 

He heard only half her words, the loud pounding of his heart not letting him hear the rest. Arya's eyes locked with his, her cheeks reddening in the softest shade of pink before she turned away, her back to him. 

"I thought you were the maid," she muttered. 

Jon stood in his place, fearing to move for some reason. He watched her skin glisten with the beads of water dripping down her back. Her elbows were perched up on the sides of the tub. His eyes were stuck on her neck, strands of wet hair sticking to the skin; dark against the paleness of her skin. 

Jon felt heat rush to his ears and a pull in his groin. His blood was getting warmer the longer he kept looking at her, and he couldn't for the love of the Gods, look away. 

It was Arya who broke the silence. The tease! She turned without even bothering to cover herself. Her breasts were wet and the smirk on her face was doing things to him he'd never admit out loud. 

"You're blushing like a maiden," she commented. 

Well, Jon wasn't going to deny that. 

"Nothing you've never seen before," she said again, tilting her head to the side. 

"Cover yourself," he said, finally finding his voice. 

"No." She shook her head. "Your face is too priceless." 

There was a knock on the door, and a small voice asking if she could come in. Arya pulled herself on her feet, as Jon quickly turned around. He heard Arya's short laughter behind him, followed by a couple of clicks on the door. 

Jon waited patiently for her to dress. He was actually relieved for it. There was a very obvious bulge in his breeches, and he had no intention of showing that to Arya. Even though he had seen her half naked before, it was still a bit embarrassing for it to happen in broad daylight. He cursed under his breath. He _was_ behaving like a bloody maiden. 

"Oh come on, Jon! Turn around for Gods' sake!" 

"Are you dressed?" He asked. 

She sighed. "Yes." 

He turned around slowly, his eyes falling on the shift she was wearing. Arya crossed her arms under her chest, and he noticed her nipples were hard underneath her clothes. 

Arya stepped closer to him, her eyes never leaving his own. Jon breathing accelerated, and in spite of trying to gather all the control in the world, he stepped closer to her as well. Arya's hand went to his hair, stroking it gently, then rested on his cheek. Her skin was damp and he could smell the soap. There was another sweet scent, although he couldn't identify what. 

Their lips met softly, as Arya leaned up on her toes. She took his hands and placed them on her waist, and Jon tugged her closer. The kiss started to turn from gentle to needy. Jon pushed her backwards until her back hit the wall with a small thump. Arya unclasped his cloak and let it drop on the floor. Jon let out a low growl, his fingers brushing across her nipple. Arya sighed and fumbled with his clothes. Jon moved his lips to her neck, placing frantic kisses, but Arya pushed him away. 

"Take off your clothes," she commanded. 

"Arya..." 

His mind was battling with his heart. He wanted to, _so much,_ but there was no going back after this. Once he took her, there would be nothing left to say. Whatever part of him still doubted this would be gone, and he would be hers. 

"I love you," she whispered, placing small kisses on his throat. 

He held her at arms length. 

"I would dishonor you," he said, echoing Sansa's words. 

"Seven hells, Jon! It's not on you if I want to dishonor myself!" she shouted, her smile turning to a scowl. 

"If you regret it later...," he whispered, his fingers tangling in her hair. 

"Do you really think I'd regret anything I'd do with you?" 

She didn't give him time to answer and smacked her lips onto his, her tongue quickly darting out to taste him. 

It was done. He was lost. 

Jon pulled her against him roughly, his hands sliding under her shift and moving upwards. Arya let out a gasp when he gripped her arse, but she pulled away again. Jon groaned in frustration. 

"You haven't done what I told you to." 

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Jon was sure he had never undressed as quickly in his entire life as he did now. When he was in his tunic, Arya stopped his hands, and moved to kiss him again; she had already taken control. 

"Bed," he breathed. 

She nodded, and he pulled her up, placing her legs around his waist. He carried her to the bed, his mouth locked onto hers. They fell on the bed in a tangle of limbs. Jon took her hands and placed them over her head, discarding the shift from her body. He wondered why she'd even bothered to wear it; there were no smallclothes underneath it. 

His hand ghosted over her collarbone, and went lower, Arya soft breathing sending shivers through his body. He rubbed his thumb over her nipple, feeling the peak harden. Arya's face was flushed, and she was gnawing her lower lip with her teeth. Jon leaned down and moved his tongue over it as his hand moved lower and circled her navel. Arya writhed beautifully underneath him, and her spine arched when he took a nipple in his mouth and sucked. 

Jon didn't know whether Arya was a maiden or not. Suddenly though, the thought of another man touching her like this shot like an arrow through his mind, and he pushed his hand between her thighs. His fingers stroked her, as her moans grew louder. Arya eagerly kept thrusting her hips up, moaning his name in the softest of whispers. 

Arya wrapped her arms around his neck when she came, crying out his name, her face dipped between his shoulder and neck. Jon felt her bite his skin, and he winced; not so much in pain as in excitement. He caressed her stomach softly, as she breathed rapidly against him. When she finally calmed down, he looked at her face, tracing her jaw with his fingers. 

"You liked that?" He asked, even though he knew the obvious answer. 

She rolled her eyes, and he kissed her brows. "Of course I did, stupid." Then her smile slowly turned evil. 

"Who told you to stop?" She asked and quickly turned them over, straddling him. 

Arya winked and her fingers started removing the only piece of cloth covering his upper body. Arya pulled the tunic impatiently off him and started placing kisses on his chest. Her nails softly scratched the hair on his chest and he groaned at the feeling. He tried to turn them over and be on top of her, but Arya stopped him, shaking her head at him. 

"Stay," she whispered in his ear. "Just. Like. This." 

Her fingers found the laces of his breeches, all the while their tongues were dancing erotically against each other. Jon felt her fingers brush the bulge in his pants and pushed his manhood involuntarily against her. Arya broke the kiss and looked at his eyes, lust evident in them. Jon gripped her hair and pulled her down so that their noses were touching and pushed his hips against hers. He tried again, and this time succeeded in reverting their positions. He wasted no time to hear her protests as he pressed her lips to him all the while his hands were pushing his damned pants off him. When he was completely naked, Jon pulled Arya so that their chests were touching and she wrapped her legs around him. 

"I love you," he whispered to her, then traced the shell of her ear with his tongue. His arms were wrapped around her torso, as he kept kissing her cheek, and jaw, and neck and shoulder to calm her. But maybe she _was_ calm and _he_ was the one who was nervous. 

Arya, on her part, didn't seem in pain at all when he entered her. She sucked in a breath and held still, not moving a muscle. 

"Alright?" He asked. Arya closed her eyes shut and nodded. 

"Move, please," she whispered, her voice a little louder than a breath. 

Jon pushed deeper inside her and for a few seconds, his heart stopped beating. 

It was pure bliss: her gasps loud in his ear and her hands holding him so tightly to herself he thought she might actually break him. 

Jon forgot everything; the shame, the regret. Nothing mattered to him now more than the feel of her around him. His mind had thrown everything away, except Arya. Always Arya. 

His thrusts were slow at first. He didn't want to hurt her, even if she said he couldn't. 

Arya took him by surprise, tangling her leg over his, and flipping them over. Arya leaned down and brought her lips close to his ear. 

"Too slow," she said and bit his neck. 

She started moving above him, and Jon grunted, his hands placing themselves above her arse. Arya looked at him, her brown tresses pushed over one shoulder, her eyes as grey as they'd even and there was a smile on her lips. 

He would do _> anything _to keep her smiling like that. 

His thrusts were no longer patient. They were hard and needy and fast, and soon he felt himself getting closer to the edge. He brought Arya's lips down quickly above his own, and moved faster and harder. 

"Jon," she whimpered, and tilted her head back. He grazed her nipple with his teeth, then pressed feather-like kisses all over her chest. 

He was thrusting as fast as he could, when suddenly Arya stilled, and her mouth opened in a loud moan of his name. He felt the clenching of her walls around him, his own seed entering her in a shocking and shattering wave of pleasure. 

Their pants echoed through the room, and Jon wondered if the entire castle had heard the sounds they made a while ago. 

Arya planted a kiss on his neck, and Jon gently placed her on her back. When she looked at him, he realized there was no one who had ever looked at him with so much love before. It wasn't surprising though; maybe he had known all along that the only thing he needed was Arya, and only she could ever make him feel alive. 

Arya's hand brushed across his jaw and he kissed it. Jon stood up, and got off the bed. He brought a cloth and kneeled between her legs on the bed, gently cleaning her blood and his seed from her. Arya was staring at him all the while, not speaking a word. 

When he discarded of the cloth, Jon came over to the bed and placed his body beside hers, turning to face her so that he could feel her elbow hit her chest. 

."Now I feel sleepy," Arya complained. 

"Do that. You're tired." 

He ran his fingers through her hair and they came back slightly sticky because of the sweat. 

"Do you still question this?" She asked, moving closer to him, as Jon wrapped her in his arms and pressed a kiss on her head. "Us?" 

"No. Never again," he replied. Arya hid her face in his chest and and he felt her breathe against him. 

It was the best kind of warmth he had ever felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the *massive* delay. I will not promise regular chapters but this story will be continued.


	14. Chapter 14

Arya

She felt strange in places she didn't even know she had in her body. Arya had been in the company of whores for a long time. She had friends in brothels from Happy Port to Ragman Harbor. She had seen the act many times before her own eyes, but she had never done anything more than kissing. That was all it ever took. Impatient men, too aroused to even utter a word properly, would recklessly let down their guard and a second was more than enough for a girl to finish him off cleanly and effectively. Rarely there was blood shed, and it all ended with her washing herself thoroughly to get rid of the smell of sweat and the memory of their touches off her. 

Arya wrapped the cloak around her, hiding her Needle inside it. There was a storm approaching, she could tell. The air was incredibly chill, and it made her teeth clench. She wondered if she had spent too much in Essos that she had stopped being immune to the cold as she'd been in her childhood. She remembered the days when she would defiantly run out of the castle and stare at the sky moments before the storm started. Her Mother would bid her to come inside but she used to refuse. She had always loved it. Ice and snow and everything cold. It was exquisite to her. 

One of the gloves fell from her hand, and someone picked it up before she could. She looked at her little brother and smiled as he handed her glove back to her. 

"Good morning," he greeted. 

"Good morning, brother," she replied. She hadn't spent too much time with Rickon since she'd come back. He was always so busy and she knew being the Warden was hard for him. She remembered the little lad with bright blue eyes brimming with excitement and hands always eager to touch everything. He was wilder than her and ever enthusiastic. They had the wolf blood in them. Father used to say they'd have brought the castle down even after they'd grow up. But they never got the chance to grow up together, and while she had managed to keep the wolf in her alive, Rickon had lost the wildness. That boy was replaced by one with knowing eyes and a sad smile, someone who was forced to grow up before his time. Sometimes when Arya looked at him, she couldn't deny the clench in her heart. Rickon looked so much like Robb now, and it was hard not to hurt at the memory of her big brother. 

"I was coming to speak to you actually," Rickon said. "Walk with me?" 

She nodded and accepted the arm he held out to her. They walked to the balcony and Arya looked down at the empty grounds. The snow was at least two inches higher than it had been last evening. It had snowed vigorously last night. She hadn't felt too cold though, Jon had kept her warm throughout the night. The memory made her skin tingle and her cheeks warm. She prayed it wasn't too obvious on her face. 

"What was it you wanted to say?" She asked. Rickon turned to look at her and sighed. 

"I received a raven from the Queen today." 

Arya knew what was coming. Maybe her work had bore fruit, after all. 

"You wrote to her and you told her you do not wish for the courtship to continue." 

"I wrote more." Arya smiled and said. "I told her I have no more affection towards Aegon than a friend, and that it is completely useless for him to pursue me as I will never return his love." 

"Why did you have to write to her?" 

"Because I know better than to think Aegon will listen to me when I say it to him myself, keeping aside the fact that I have said it to him numerous times already. Maybe his aunt can shove some sense into his head." 

"I'm afraid the Prince won't take this very well." 

"I do not care how he takes it," Arya said defiantly. "No one forces me to do anything. I am not a pawn of yours." 

"No, you're not. You are my sister. I love you, Arya, even if you won't believe it." 

Arya shook her head and took Rickon's face in her hands. She made him look at her. 

"I know you were too young to remember me, but if you do, you will know that forcing me to do things will bring no good to anyone." 

"I want you to be happy," he confessed. "Sansa, Jon and you are the only family I have left." 

Arya smiled at him and embraced him. Rickon hugged her back. 

"If you really love him Arya," he said, startling her. "I have nothing against it. Sansa says you are siblings but you are not. You are cousins and I know it might seem wrong to other people, but if it makes you truly happy, I don't have the right to say anything against it." 

She was surprised at his words. She hadn't expected Rickon to think so, mostly because he seemed to listen and agree with Sansa's words. 

"I know I didn't accept your relationship, but to say the truth I was too confused. I don't know you, Arya, not really. You are different. I do remember a girl, but she was always laughing and running and playing. I agreed with Sansa that it is wrong for a brother and a sister to feel for each other this way because I take Jon for no less than a brother. But I also know that he makes you happy and I know Jon had pleaded to the Gods to return you to him for years. In the end, you are my family and if anything brings you both happiness, I don't want to be the one to hinder it." 

"I am sorry we haven't talked much," she said, sadly 

"It's not your fault, sister." 

"I could be around you more." Arya smiled. "But I am not quite adept at advising people about how to be a proper Lord. Sansa does that better." 

Rickon didn't deny that. Arya took his hand. If she had to take care of her little brother, she gladly would. And it wasn't just because of his acceptance of her affair with Jon. They were a pack and packs stayed together and strong no matter what. All of them had lost uncountable things but Rickon was the youngest, and as far as she knew, the least damaged of them all. She wanted to keep him that way, and perhaps one day he could become the child she remembered him to be. 

"So what are we going to do about Aegon?" Rickon asked suddenly. 

Arya rolled her eyes. 

"We'll see." 

0-0-0-0-0 

She heard the door click behind her and smirked. 

"I've been looking for you," Jon said, in a tired voice. 

"This is actually the first place you are supposed to look." 

"So, should I just assume you will sneak into my room?" He raised his brow. 

"Jon, at least four people saw me coming to your room, so I wasn't really sneaking..." Arya tangled her fingers in his hair and kissed him, humming against his lips. 

"Are you trying to tell the whole castle that you are sleeping with me?" He joked. 

Arya rolled her eyes at him and started to undo the laces of his tunic. He stopped her hands with his own. 

"I've been thinking..." 

"Yes?" Arya asked coyly. 

"We should tell someone to bring you...," Jon hesitated. "If you're not comfortable, maybe I can-" 

"Speak properly, Jon," she scolded with a chuckle Her amusement disappeared when she saw the miserable look on his face. She placed her hand on his cheek and stroked it softly, feeling the rasp of his stubble against her skin. 

"You should take moon tea," he advised. "Otherwise... I don't want you to regret anything." 

Arya tugged at her lower lip with her teeth. She didn't want to end up pregnant. Not yet. But she knew what that look on Jon's face meant. She could read faces like a Maester could read books, and while Jon was warning her out of worry for her, he couldn't hide from her that what he wanted was exactly the opposite. It was scary knowing what he expected and wanted and that she wasn't ready yet to give him that. 

"I'll tell a kitchen maid to fetch it," she said. He nodded and smiled, but she knew him all too well to fall for it. 

"You want a child, don't you?" She asked, pushing his tunic off of him and kissing him lovingly on the chest. "I am sorry but I can't-" 

"Hush." He pressed a finger to his lips, silencing her. "One day, I'd love to hold our babe in my arms, but you will decide when that day comes. And even if it does't, I'll love you always." 

She pushed herself at him, not wanting to waste any more time. He had always been so good to her. It didn't matter if she was wrong or right, he had always seen the best in her. Jon was the only person who didn't judge her in anything she did, good or bad or worse. It was so unfair, but Gods knew it made her feel better. 

He pulled her hair harshly and Arya groaned and tilted her head back, giving him access to kiss every inch of her neck. He was placing wet, hot kisses all over her throat, and she couldn't do anything but sigh and tremble under his lips. 

Arya's hands were tugging on the laces of his breeches, as they kissed desperately in abandon. She turned them around and pushed Jon on the bed. 

"Arya," he whispered hoarsely, and she straddled his legs, deftly working her fingers to undo his laces entirely and free his cock from his breeches. He bit his lip when she slid one of her hands over it, touching the soft skin of his manhood. His cock jumped at her touch. 

Arya would've chuckled at the look on his face but fearing he wouldn't take it well, she brought her lips down swiftly on his. One of his hands reached under her shift and moved upwards, touching her bare back and caressing it as the other attempted to push the straps of the fabric off her shoulder. 

She leaned away from his touch and wrapped her fingers over his hard manhood making Jon moan and close his eyes. 

"Patience now, love," she whispered seductively near his ear, grazing her teeth across his left jaw. She worked her hand up and down his length, hoping what she was doing was what she was supposed to do. Jon's mouth was slightly open as he breathed in and out harshly, gripping her waist almost painfully. She winced when his nails dug into her skin but strangely it was a good kind of pain, something she enjoyed. 

A thought crossed Arya's mind and she licked her lower lip, remembering a time in Braavos when she had seen a whore pleasuring a man with her mouth. It was disgusting to her then, but now watching Jon lying under her was everything but. It was enticing to watch him slightly thrust his hips against her hand in pleasure. 

She kissed him on the lips, slowly sliding her lips downwards across his neck, his chest and when she reached his stomach, Jon seemed to sense where this was going and he leaned up on his elbow and pulled her up gently by her hair. 

"No," he warned, eyes almost black and filled with desire. He was a stupid man, trying to tell her to stop when his body was demanding the opposite. 

"It's alright," she replied breathlessly. "I want to." 

Jon opened his mouth again but she silenced him with a kiss. When she pulled back, Jon was still looking at her with a warning. But she rolled her eyes and dragged herself down his body. Arya felt his hand threading through her hair and stroking her scalp softly. She hummed and kept going downwards until her face was level with his crotch. She sucked in a breath, nervous and yet excited about what she was going to do. 

Jon grunted and fisted her hair when she took him in her mouth. His other hand was entwined with hers, and Arya rejoiced in the sounds he made. She moved her mouth over him and he was calling her name in a low and deep voice. She was bobbing her head up and down over his length, sometimes quickly, then slower. Her tongue caressed it, and her mouth was completely filled by him. She could feel his cock twitch when he suddenly stopped her movements and pushed her back into the bed in a heartbeat, and Arya gasped loudly by the loss of contact. 

"Why did you stop me?" She asked surprisingly. 

He took the shift off her in a quick move, kissing her with a trembling passion and before her thoughts could be gathered, he pulled her smallclothes down to her knees and he was buried deep inside her in one push. He dropped his head to suck the skin of her throat, and kept thrusting hard and quick as Arya's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she moaned loudly and shamelessly, not caring if the world heard her. She pushed the smallclothes down from her knees with her feet and wrapped her legs around him, willing him to go deeper. 

"Jon..." Her voice was shaking with every one of his thrusts. She was clutching his bare back and almost clawing, and her body shook as he hit a perfect spot inside of her. His mouth was surely leaving marks all over her throat but she couldn't care less. Hearing his name from her lips seemed to spur him on as he increased his pace and started to go deeper and harder than before. 

Her walls clamped around him, and Arya writhed under the pressure of her orgasm. Jon was relentless though, and he was whispering filth in her ear as he kept on pounding into her. She didn't have the chance to revive from her climax when she felt her pleasure build again, and this time, just before her release, she felt him still inside her. They came together and Arya was limp in his arms as he heaved over her and dropped himself to her side. Their eyes met and both of them laughed, exhausted and spent from their vigorous lovemaking. 

They turned to their sides and Arya dropped her head on his chest, as he kept running his fingers through her hair and then tracing them lovingly down and up her spine. 

"That was a little out of control on my part," Jon said, sounding like he was apologizing. 

She punched him lightly on the chest. 

"Nonsense!" Their lips met softly once more. "I loved every thing about it. And you are very much entitled to lose your control with me." She winked. 

"Careful now, woman," he teased. "Anything you say can and will be used against you."She giggled and Jon held her by the waist and rolled them over once on the bed. He was above her again and Arya looked at his eyes, realizing how much she loved him and that it would never be enough if she told him that a million times. 

Jon pushed her hair off her face. 

"You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, Arya Stark," he whispered softly, kissing her forehead.. 

"Liar," she accused, but the moment he had said those words she knew that he had meant it. She couldn't bring herself to believe them fully. She was pretty, she knew that, but she had never been beautiful and definitely not the most beautiful. 

"Maybe you have not seen too many women," she said. 

"I've seen my share, and you know I'd never lie to you." 

"I know," she said. 

She received a kiss in return. 

0-0-0-0-0 

"I like your hair." 

Arya resisted the urge to sigh loudly. She didn't want to make small talk with her sister, and about hair of all things. 

"Thank you," she said nonetheless, turning to smile at her but Sansa was staring straight ahead. 

"I've never seen such a thing before," Sansa said. "How did you do it?" 

_Oh, Gods._

"Something I learned from a Lyseni girl. I can teach you some time if you want." 

Her hair was tied up and supported with a short stick. It kept it out of her way and for someone like Arya who paid the least amount of attention possible to her tresses, it was a very convenient way. 

"Thank you," Sansa replied. 

Aegon entered with his Kingsguard in tow. He looked far from pleased and the Targaryen red cloak around his shoulders made Arya anticipate that her plan had worked. She caught Rickon's eye and offered a small nod. Jon and Sansa stood oblivious and it was unclear to them why the Prince had asked for an audience so abruptly. Aegon looked straight at Arya and she was struck by the hardness of his eyes. He was not happy. Not at all. 

"I believe you are aware of the Queen's order, My Lord," he asked Rickon, but his gaze was only on her. 

"Yes, Your Highness." Rickon cleared his throat and turned to his siblings and his cousin. "Prince Aegon has been summoned back to Court by Her Grace, Queen Daenerys." 

"But what about the courtship, Prince Aegon?" Sansa asked, bewildered. She was the only one, mayhaps. Arya could swear she saw Jon let out a breath 

"Your sister has gone to great lengths to make sure it will not go on, My Lady. Haven't you, Arya Stark?" Aegon asked. 

Arya frowned at him. He had no right to ask her questions. If he had only listened before, it would not have come to this. 

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," she said. "But I have told you again and again since your arrival that I've no desire to be courted or to be married. You have remained ignorant of my wishes and kept urging on. If you truly know me, you'd know that if I don't want to do anything, no one can make me do it. I apologize that it had to end like this but you left me no choice." 

Aegon approached her and she saw Jon tense, but a slight shake of her head and he was still again, but he kept his eyes locked on her. 

Aegon was looking down at her, and he leaned close to her face, indifferent to the looks the others sent his way. Arya stood her ground. 

"Hear me, Arya Stark. You have rejected a Prince of Westeros. I will never forget this slight. Whatever love I held in my heart for you is gone." 

"Then you never did love me, Aegon," she said with a smile. It was a relief hearing those words. "As I've told you before." 

Aegon stared at her for a few seconds before he turned to the others. "I'll be leaving in an hour," he said. 

"Have supper with us, Your Highness," Rickon offered. "Please." 

"Of course, My Lord." 

Sansa threw a accusing look at her, but Arya ignored her. For now, she was relieved Aegon was leaving, for more reasons than one. 

When the others sat, she took her usual seat next to Jon. 

"What have you done, love?" He asked as their fingers laced under the table. 

She had done nothing wrong. She wanted everyone to understand there was no other way. She knew why Jon was tensed; not because he was leaving but because of what it could mean for them. Not being in the good graces of the Prince could mean future tension for their house, and although Jon, being a Targaryen was on their side, Aegon was second in line for the Throne. 

"It was Daenerys who called him back," Arya whispered. "No one shoved him away from here." 

"What did you tell her?" Jon asked curiously, and leaned back as a servant poured wine in his glass. 

Arya shrugged, and took a sip of her wine. It was not as strong as she had wanted but it would have to do. She had gulped half the glass down when Jon stopped her with his hand on hers. 

"That's enough, love," he said, shaking his head. He took the glass from her hand and Arya scowled, trying to get it back, but he had kept it out of her reach. 

"It's just wine, Jon," she muttered, finally giving up. 

She was looking ahead at the head of the table where a servant was pouring wine in the Prince's cup. She narrowed her eyes, something out of the ordinary catching her eye. When Rickon asked for his glass to be filled, the servant told him he would have to fetch more wine. But Arya could tell by the pressure he put on his arm that the jug was at least half full. Then why would he... 

"Stop!" She shouted at Aegon. "Don't drink the wine!" 

The people around the table looked at her as she jumped from her seat and moved to Aegon's side. He raised an eye at her but lowered the glass from his lips as well. The servant didn't moved as she snatched the glass from the Prince's hand and took a sniff. She spilled the wine on the floor and turned to the servant. She glanced down at his half-full pitcher. 

"Drink," she commanded. The room was silent around her. 

"Drink!" She raised her voice. The servant looked at her, then dropping the jug, sprang into a run. 

"Catch him!" Jon shouted, rising from his seat. 

The Kingsguard ran after him and so did a few of the other guards but Arya knew they wouldn't be able to catch him. She turned and taking a look at Jon, ran after the man. She heard her name being called but she couldn't stop. She had to end this once and for all. 

Arya went out into the snowfall. The storm had subsided hours ago and now the wind was calmer. She looked around for footsteps, and found them heading towards the woods. She broke into a run and her hand pulled out a dagger from under her cloak. Fearing it would slow her, she dropped her cloak into the snow and cursed when she remembered she had left Needle in her room. 

The woods were silent except for a few distant calls of crows. She clutched her dagger in her hand tightly and walked forward, turning around and searching every corner her eyes could reach and her eyes alert for any minimal sound. 

"I do not understand, lovely girl." 

Arms caught her from behind and she felt herself being pinned back against a hard chest. 

"You don't want your family or your friends to die and you are not willing to die yourself. A debt must be paid and how can a man pay it if a girl continues to spoil his plans?" He whispered against her ear, his hot breath touching her skin. 

"I protect the ones I love at any cost," she said. 

"Then the price is a girl's life," he whispered. 

"Not today," she said, and turned around forcefully, thrusting the sharp end of her dagger into his shoulder. Jaqen winced but his hands were quick to grab her shoulders as he pushed her to the ground. 

Arya was pulling herself up, when her ears caught a beloved sound. She stopped and looked up at Jaqen. He was surprised at her actions and took her dagger out of his shoulder with a grimace and pointed it at her. Arya smiled at him. 

"Valar Morghulis," she whispered. 

Two figures jumped out of the shadows and pounced on the man. Arya reached up on her knees to look at the wolves devouring the man right in front of her, as he kept screaming. A while later, the screaming stopped and Arya reached out her hand to touch her companions. Both of their mouths were filled with blood and specks of blood had tainted their furs. Ghost turned and nuzzled his face into her hand but beside him stood the one who caught Arya's attention the most. Tears sprang to her eyes at the sight of the pair of golden eyes. The direwolf bared her teeth and Arya leaned her forehead against her best friend's, not caring about the stench of blood. 

"Nymeria."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment. Thanks!♥

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [【授权翻译】what was long lost](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7026940) by [gedanning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gedanning/pseuds/gedanning)




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